Wanting Casey
by NotAContrivance
Summary: What Derek wants, Derek gets, right? So what happens when what he wants the most is Casey, his stepsister? He does what he always does; he goes after her... But what's this? Is Casey wanting Derek? Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he was irresistible.
1. For Miles in Denial

Let's see... I've been dying to write a Life With Derek fic ever since I saw the promos this summer, and my computer was evil, so I had to retype this... And I should totally be working on my Instant Star fic, but what's a few more minutes?

Isn't it weird how they dressed up as Mary and Percy Shelley (in Grade Point: Average)? Who were married... And known for their position on free love! Percy eloped twice with sixteen-year-olds... And he tried to have an open marriage with his first wife. And Percy wrote love poetry, while Mary, well, Mary wrote Frankenstein. It just doesn't add up. Ooh, and after Percy died, Mary kept his heart until the day she died... Which is really romantic and really creepy...

Anyhow, this is set after Episode Thirteen... Or the season finale, which, yes, I realize they have not shown, well, at least here in the U.S. anyways, but I went to and they had spoilers there, so I decided to use them. I'm assuming that Casey/Sam hooked up... Which annoys me because Sam is not that cute, really, and Derek's cooler...

Anyways, so let's see here... Um, okay... Casey's fifteen-going-on-sixteen, Derek's sixteen-going-on-seventeen... The chapters are going to alternate from Derek's POV to Casey's POV for prolly the whole story... This chapter happens to be a Derek chapter. Oh, and it starts out somewhere before Halloween (kinda like now, actually). Or maybe a few weeks before Halloween.

* * *

"What Derek wants, Derek gets."

* * *

I cannot believe Casey! She's going out with Sam! My best friend! And, I mean, I know I gave him the okay and all to go out with her, but seriously! I didn't think he would actually listen. I mean... Him and Casey are such wusses... Usually.

But I guess I underestimated Casey. I'm always underestimating her. I've got her mostly figured out, but then she'll just go and do something totally out of character. I told them no boyfriend/girlfriend stuff in front of me... But then I walked in on them making out, and I felt a uncontrollable urge to beat the crap out of Sam. Odd, considering he's my best friend.

I mean, why did she have to pick Sam, my best friend? Am I trying to get with her best friend, Emily? Hell no. She could at least repay the favor.

Ugh... And now I've got those pictures of them kissing ingrained in my brain. Ewww. I don't want her to be making out with him... They were SO obvious about it too... In the doorway, for crying out loud!

Wait, why do I care? I mean, sure, it's weird... But what hasn't been weird about Life With Casey? Everything's been all screwed up since Dad married Nora. Everything.

I mean, it's weird and all, but why do I care? I guess I don't want Sam telling her my secrets... Y'know, the whole Dereka thing... Nope, that's not it...

Wait... No! It can't be! I am not that kind of guy!

I can't... I don't... It's insane! I don't feel... anything. Especially for Casey.

Ugh. I cannot believe that I like Casey. No, no, I don't like Casey! I just want her... I'm attracted to her, that's all, nothing more! That's what happens when you live with someone and you're around them all the time. You start overthinking things and before you know it, you've started crushing on your stepsister...

No, I am not crushing on Casey. I like her. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe.

I like my pain in the ass stepsister. I want Casey. This is insane! I've officially lost my mind. I'll just try and avoid her... That'll be easy, and before you know it, the feelings will be completely gone! I'll just keep my mouth shut so I don't screw everything up.

You know what? I'm not that guy either. I do not suffer in silence. I do not suffer. If I want it, I get it. That's what kind of guy I am. I do not pine after girls from afar. I am not some noble Prince Charming type. I am Mr. Cool. I mean, I upset Casey much more than she upsets me.

Damnit, I bet this is exactly what she wanted.

Because I'll be damned if she isn't under my skin. Ugh. Now I know how it feels to be on the other side. Ugh. This sucks.

Yeah, I'm not that guy... So I shouldn't even try. I don't want to be something I'm not. If I want something, I go after it. And I don't stop until I've gotten it. But if I do go after Casey... What'll happen? I would have to be really subtle, because if she figures out what I'm doing, then I'll have no chance with her... Listen to me, talking about getting a chance with Casey... Like I've become some monogamist.

Ugh... I feel like I'm Sebastien from Cruel Intentions. Minus the froo-froo name. Being attracted to my stepsister, though with a stepsister as hot as Sarah Michelle Gellar, who wouldn't be? Ugh, it makes me feel so wrong and sick and dirty. Stupid Casey... Stupid me.

I've got to formulate a plan, yeah.

But first, I've got to break up her and Little Sammy. It might hurt, but it's really for the better.

Why do I want Casey so bad? Damn, living with her is gonna kill me! How am I going to do this for so long before we're together?

I don't know, but I guess I'll have to find out...

Still, I can't believe I like Casey... Of all people, I like the one I can't have, the one that would not give me the time of day, the one girl at school who simply cannot stand me...

Well, I've always liked a challenge.

And it just figures, doesn't it?

- Loren ;

Okay, so review if you liked it... I love reviews, they make my day. Man, there should so be a category for this... Oh, and I don't own Life With Derek or Cruel Intentions (which would be kinda cool, if there was a Casey/Derek story like that... Refreshingly dark).


	2. Mercury Is Clearly Opposing Neptune

Jeez, Vicky is a witch... I mean, she's worse than Derek! I'd like to see Casey beat the crap out of her... But she looks so much like Casey! I mean, how can Derek think she's hot if he doesn't think Casey is? And, jeez, he looked kind of excited when he talked about the catfight... They're practically twins (kinda like Nora and Fiona)... Only Vicky wears more make-up... And cuter clothes. Casey needs a bit of a make-over. And to do something better with her hair... Maybe curl it or something? I dunno... I mean, I have like a gazillion girl cousins and I don't look that much like any of them... It's kinda cute that Marti and Derek call each other Smarti and Smerek... And Edwin and Lizzie work together really well... Lol, Derek having the mental breakdown... And they played "Get Me the Rock Outta Here" by The Pettit Project! Ahh, I love that song! It's so cool that I actually know what songs they play... Hehe. And when he kissed Victoria, it really looked like he was kissing Casey... I mean, they wear their hair the same and everything! Honestly!

* * *

"I've seen your bathroom aim and it isn't very good!"

* * *

Things have been weird lately. Which is saying something, considering how crazy things normally are around here... I know what it is. It's because Derek walked in on me making out with Sam in the doorway. His best friend. That's what you get when you're dating your stepbrother's best friend. It's crazy, but lately, everything's been crazy.

Which is why I need to talk to Derek. You see, Mom and George are going away for a weekend... entirely alone this time. Marti's staying at her grandmother's house, and we've already arranged for Lizzie and Edwin to go to friend's houses for the weekend. This time, he chose to inform me of the party. It's better this way. This way I don't freak out. Sam's going to be there... Which is really why I'm okay with it. The party's on Halloween, actually. It's going to be a costume party, sorta cheesy, I know, but Derek's hosting, so it's bound to be cool.

I mean, somehow they think Derek's hot and cool and all that... To this day, I still don't get how they think that. All I see when I look at him is a played-out overly-flirtatious slacker-idiot. And that's keeping it tame. Of course I'd probably never tell Derek that. I'm the bigger person here, remember?

We seriously need to talk. I cannot have this... weirdness up in the air between us. Mom and George have to buy that we're not going to have a party when they leave. So we have to maintain the status quo. I mean, Derek was avoiding me yesterday. He didn't even look at me. And then, when he actually had to, he was nice to me! I know, can you say weird?

I asked Edwin where he was (because I've been looking for Derek all night). He just shrugged and said something like: "I dunno... The bathroom?" Yeah, really helpful of him. So here I am, standing outside of the bathroom, not even knowing if Derek is even here. All I know is that he isn't in the den... Or his room... Or the kitchen. And honestly, what would that boy be doing in the laundry room or the basement, for that matter? He's not in the attic because I just went up there, or my room or Lizzie's (at least, I hope not... That would be creepy and weird) or Marti's...

I don't know though... He could be at a friend's house or something... He does that a lot, you know. Or he could have moved from somewhere else... Whatever. I'll just do this and then I'm giving up and putting it off until tomorrow.

Hesitantly, I reached out and slowly placed my hand on the doorknob. Why was I being so slow? It's not like Derek's in there. Rolling my eyes at the strange feeling that was telling me not to do this, I twisted the doorknob and flung the door open. I saw a flash of skin before Derek pulled the towel around his waist, looking somewhat surprised.

Crap. He was in here. Crap. Not that I saw anything... Not really, that is... I mean... Wait, okay, why am I even analyzing this? I didn't see anything. Derek has fast hand-eye coordination from all that hockey, which is a very good thing, because if he didn't, I would have seen my stepbrother naked. Which would not have been good.

Wow, I can't believe it. Derek is actually smirking. I walk in on him and he's somehow still smirking... I don't think I'd be able to do the same. Yeah, I definitely wouldn't... "Like what you see, Casey?" Derek drawled, leaning against the wall and giving me this_ look_. Like he's trying to be James Dean or something...

Please tell me he did not just insinuate that I'm staring at him because I think he's "hot". I'm not Emily! Honestly... I can't believe the nerve he's got.

"Oh, _please_... We need to talk," I stated bluntly, rolling my eyes at him and crossing my arms over my chest. To my surprise, Derek actually nodded, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards me. Suddenly, I felt very uncomfortable here, all alone in the bathroom with my half-naked stepbrother.

"You're right. We do need to talk," Derek replied smoothly as his gaze locked with mine. He paused. I couldn't bare his stare... Great, and now I'm rhyming. So, avoiding his gaze, I looked down at my feet. "I mean, you're breaking your own rule..."

My head shot up at his words as I frowned, confused. What did he mean? My own rule? "What do you mean, Derek?" I asked, bewildered. Derek gave me a look, rolling his eyes. As if I should already know what he was talking about.

"Jeez, Case... You know, the whole knocking rule... The one you made a huge deal about at dinner the first week you were here? Looks like you're the one who needs to learn how to knock," Derek retorted, leaning in a little closer, as he always did when we argued. As he said this, I could feel myself blush.

Oh, **that** rule. Stupid, stupid Casey. And hey, since when can he call me Case? Like he knows me... Well, okay, so he lives with me! So what? That doesn't mean we're close or intimate or anything! Most certainly not... intimate. I mean, ew, that's Derek we're talking about! "Oh, yeah, that rule... Um, sorry."

Derek shrugged, that stupid uncaring look on his face again. "It's nothing, Casey. I mean, you didn't _see_ anything, right?" Derek responded coolly. Once again, I avoiding his stare.

"Nope... Nothing," I muttered, though my cheeks still felt hot. Derek nodded, immediately relaxing a little and moving his hands to his hips. He let out a deep breath, looking at me expectantly.

"So, Casey, what did you want to talk about?" He inquired, sounding bored. He wanted one of us out of that room, that much I could tell. I took a deep breath and met his eyes, trying not to fiddle with my hands. I had to get this all out now. Then everything would go so much smoother. Like the party...

"I don't exactly know how to put this, but... Things have been weird lately," I began slowly, biting my lip and pausing awkwardly. Derek said nothing but leaned over and shook out his hair, which was still very damp. Then he slowly moved back into his former position, his hips jutting forward a little.

He was still wet, I noticed. Derek stretched languidly, throwing his arms over his head and flexing and twisting his muscles. And suddenly, I realized that I was staring. Before I knew it, my eyes had swept all the way from his feet up to his chest. He had strong, defined muscles... Hockey sure does a body good. Beads of water trailed down his shoulders, rolling across his stomach, and streaming down his abdomen. And I was staring at his shirtless, practically naked body.

I mean, come on... This is Derek. D-E-R-E-K. The very same Derek who's made my life Hell. He gave me the nickname Klutzilla. He's the reason why everyone still thinks I'm a grade grubber. He made out with my cousin Victoria, for crying out loud! Victoria! He is a total barbarian... He thinks he owns the place. Drinking straight out of the carton, eating eggs straight out of the pan, and then spitting them back in... Ew. Pig.

It's Derek. I am not staring at Derek. I mean, I'm dating Sam, remember? Sam... Derek's best friend! Sam. Think Sam. You like Sam. Not-No, don't say it! No! If you say it, that means you're considering it... Which you're not... Because it's wrong and sick and he's your stepbrother. S-T-E-P-B-R-O-T-H-E-R. And an ass. A complete, total ass... Speaking of which, his butt's not that... Okay, no, I'm not thinking about this! No... It's Derek, for crying out loud.

My period's coming up soon. That's it... I'm hormonal and I'm losing my mind because of the hormones. Now, I was saying something... What was it? Oh, yeah... About the party. "Especially... With you and me..." Well, no kidding, Casey! You were just checking out Derek. Derek. Practically lusting after Derek. Derek. I mean, are you daft or something? Moving on! "And they've been that way ever since you sort of, um, walked in on Sam and me, uh, kissing..." I explained nervously and shakily.

Derek nodded, eyes narrowing in frustration (how was he only angry with me now?). He chose now to get short with me? "Yeah, _so_, what's your point? It's **supposed** to be a bit weird when you walk in on your sister making out with your best friend... Especially when I asked you two to not do that in front of me," Derek snarled angrily, perhaps a bit too furiously for the situation. After all, what did he have to be mad about with Sam and me? Is he trying to guilt me into not dating him? Am I supposed to feel bad that poor little Derek sees me kissing my boyfriend? I mean, the guy could (somehow) get any girl in the school... So it's not that he couldn't have one if he wanted... I mean, he made out with Vicky, didn't he? And she's really picky. They ought to call her Picky Vicky.

"Look, Derek... I'm just doing this for the party... It is important that Mom and George don't suspect anything, and if they do... They won't let us stay here all alone, they'll send that Higginbotham lady, which is something neither of us wants to happen, and you know it. You being _weird_ is not helping matters any. So, Derek, whatever beef you've got with me... You better get **over** it or just **forget** about it because it's a long weekend and this is a small house. Okay?" I snapped bossily, fed up with all his crap. Great, now I was starting to sound like the idiot. Not that he's made me have a mental breakdown yet, but whatever...

Derek scowled at me with a bitter, enraged, almost murderous look in his eyes. I had never seen him so angry, and, trust me, I'd seen him angry. It sort of scared me... I guess he really must not like me telling him what to do. Whatever, he's gonna have to get over that. Did I just make things worse? However, as suddenly as it came, the glare vanished from his face.

He licked his lips, giving me a dismissive look, jerking his head upward suddenly in a rude nod. He is so unreadable! "Consider it forgotten," He hissed frostily, looking past me at the door, hinting. He wanted me to leave, but I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Oh, please, Derek! You didn't forget about it at all! You're only bottling up your anger," I countered, calling him on his insincerity. Derek rolled his eyes, stepping back from me a little. Not his usual style. Derek's all about getting in your face and invading your personal bubble. This means he's going to play it cool. Or should I say try to play it cool? I won't let him.

"Maybe you ought to be glad I'm _not_ expressing my anger, Casey. If I didn't, I might do something stupid like ki...kill you," Derek growled, brow furrowing in rage. He ran a hand through his hair quickly. I hadn't ever really seen his hair down like this. He won't kill me. Derek draws the line at throwing things at me and wrestling over the remote.

"Ooh, I'm so afraid of Little Derek..." I taunted, pantomiming being afraid of him. I laughed at my pantomiming, but Derek remained unamused. I merely rolled my eyes at his idiocy once again. Derek frowned, and for a moment, it seemed as if Derek was fighting an internal war with himself. He looked conflicted, confused, but most of all, frustrated.

"Maybe you should be, Casey," Derek said quietly. His sudden moodswing, not to mention the way he said the words, managed to thoroughly freak me out. It seemed to freak him out too because as he came out of whatever mood he had been in, he was oddly quiet. "Fine, Sis... You win. I'm over it. There. Happy now?" He groaned, almost as if in pain, finally surrendering. I didn't fail to notice the brief grimace that came over his face as he called me Sis, or, for that matter, the slight wince that happened as he said that. I don't get it. He's called me Sis before. After all, we are siblings... By marriage!

I can't believe he gave in! And so easily, too! Today must be my lucky day or something. Though maybe Derek should get a blood test or something. He seems a bit off today... Actually, come to think of it, he's been off all week. I smirked at him and answered his question. "_Very_."

"Hey, Case? I realize that I'm hot, but you ought to leave before you see me naked again. Unless, of course, you _want_ to... I'm totally cool with that. Or, you know, if you want to take off _your_ clothes and make it a **real** party... I've got no qualms with that. In fact, I _encourage_ it..." Derek drawled nonchalantly, leaning forward a little and sliding his hand across my shoulder. Ugh, sleaze!

Please tell me he wasn't just hitting on me... Please! I mean, it sure sounded like it... You know, I need to relax. I mean, it's Derek. He was just doing one of his funny jokes. Ha-ha. Boy, that was funny... Not.

And he called me Case again! Argh. Derek raised an eyebrow, giving me an interested look. His hand fell to the towel. "Seriously?" I didn't know what he was asking, but I bolted out of the door, slamming it behind me, before I could find out.

I pressed my ear against the door and heard Derek sigh in relief. Relief? "Finally," He mumbled right before turning on the shower once again. But when I came in there he was still wet! How can this be? Who takes two showers in a row?

Wouldn't a better question be: Who listens to their stepbrother in the bathroom? Besides, I have studying to do.

And daydreams to dream about Sam... Not Derek.

No, now I'm going to go in my room and listen to girly music and read. Hmm, I'm thinking Unsensored maybe... Great band, really.

Yep, they would help me get my mind off of Derek's troubles. Seriously, that boy needs mental help. Maybe by playing the role of concerned sister, I could help convince Mom and George... Hmm, now there's an idea!

- Loren ;

Did you all like that last chapter? Can't you just feel the sexual tension? Too bad Casey can't. Poor oblivious girl. Oh, well... She'll get over it later. Just wait until you see what I've got planned for the party... I think that's going to be several chapters... If it helps, one of Derek's chapters for the party's probably gonna be called Mr. Obvious. ;)

Oh, and in case you're wondering, Unsensored does the theme song, not to mention the song that's playing when Casey's reading the book and trying not to study.

And a random fact... I almost named this chapter Every Inambition. So don't be surprised if that one pops up. Whoever figures out the thing the titles all have in common, well, I dunno, but kudos if you do... I'm gonna go do homework now... And sleep... And stuff. Fun.

Night!


	3. Get Me the Rock Outta Here

Actually, Casey does feel the tension... She's just too dense to realize what it means/is. Hehe. See, so Derek's sorta in control. But Derek's definitely gonna have some problems with the tension (hence the reason why he took a cold shower at the end of the last chapter). So Derek's liable to snap. He has poor self-control.

And, yeah, you're right about them being song titles, but there's something about the bands...

By the stuff Casey misinterpreted, do you mean when he hit on her? 'Cause he might've actually been serious there. They're in the bathroom together on the show too (like the whole knocking thing, which I got from the first episode where Casey wants to shower, but Edwin, Marti, and Derek are all in there... She says something like: "Doesn't anybody knock around here?" And then Derek gets everybody out and asks Casey to leave so he can go to the bathroom... Lol... And she refuses, so he's like "Okay. Suit yourself." Naturally, Casey runs away).

But actually, no, this chapter is not the party... That'll be a few chapters on. Speaking of which, what/who should they go as? 'Cause I'm thinking Derek in something dark with a leather jacket and lots of hair gel... And Casey in a totally not Casey outfit so Derek'll be like going insane and guys'll be hitting on her.

In this one George and Nora leave and Derek's grandma shows up... And the next chapter is Casey dealing with that... Or maybe at school, I don't know... And then... Somewhere later on, you'll get the party... Which might be four-ish parts, I'm thinking... Or, well, I dunno. Yeah, 'cause there'll be one about Derek and the party's beginning... And then one about what Casey does... And then Derek supervising the party/afterparty thing with Sam... And then there's gonna be my personal fav, the Casey one where she... Yeah. But I haven't gotten any of this written... Oh well.

Yeah, I'm gonna up the rating... 'Cause Derek is a pervert and he's always thinking... Well, uh, you don't want to know, really... It's tamer than some of my other stuff though... lol... Like Consequences. It's weird, actually... I always like screwed up couples (man, I'm gonna have one screwed up boyfriend). And when they get together and get all domestic and cute, yeah, that sorta kills it for me... I mean, a moment here or there, that sort of thing. Step-siblings, rivals, enemies, people who have other things standing in their way like jobs, boyfriends, age differences, beliefs, etcetera. These are the couples I like. But I'm strange... Very strange. Lol.

Anyways, don't you think it's ironic that Casey told Derek to get over and forget about his feelings for her? Hehe. Gotta love dramatic irony.

On a side note, isn't it weird that Derek is such a good big brother to Marti, y'know, sweet, nice, and all that... But not like that to anybody else? Especially Casey/Lizzie. Eh, he's still better than my brother... We've been beating each other up for years. Actually, oddly enough, my brother is like Derek. I mean, he has brown hair/brown eyes, is a total slacker when it comes to grades (yes, including the flunking; he's always retaking tests), is athletic, has loads of friends, somehow gets girls (though both girlfriends dumped him... haha), and even had to retake the same grade as Derek. First. Now, isn't that creepy? And I just realized this now... 'Course my brother's 14 and nowhere as cool as Derek, or as manipulative, for that matter... Anyways...

Oh, and since this isn't clarified in the show... I made Casey and Derek sophomores... Frankly because I don't buy either of them as freshmen. So, therefore, Casey is fifteen-going-on-sixteen like a normal sophomore, whereas Derek is sixteen-going-on-seventeen. But Lizzie and Edwin are nine and ten, respectively, and Marti's still 6... Aww.

And actually, there's a picture of her on Disney where she's (Casey) wearing make up... She looks a lot like Vicky there, but really pretty.

"Sucker."

I have no idea how I'm going to survive a four-day weekend all alone with Casey. I mean, I could barely stand being in the same room with her yesterday for a few minutes... The longest few minutes of my life, might I add! I had to restrain myself from mauling her several times... And not because I was mad at her, even though I was some of the time.

Seriously. I had to take a cold shower. The water was so cold. I hate cold water.

I mean, I couldn't even stop myself from hitting on her. That stuff I said at the end wasn't just because I wanted her to get out of there. I probably would've completely lost it if she hadn't left when she did. Lucky me... I was about to do something stupid.

Not that shoving Casey against the wall and shoving my tongue down her throat was stupid. Actually, right now, it sounds pretty damn great.

But right now I'm so tired anything sounds great... And guess why I'm so tired? Come on, guess! Casey. I was thinking about Casey. It's really annoying having all these feelings at the same time. I mean, first I'm annoyed, angry, frustrated (both sexually and emotionally, might I add!)... And I hate her. But then I start worrying and doubting myself. I never doubt myself.

How does she feel about me? What happens if Dad finds out? Blah, blah, blah... How do I break her and Sam up? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Though that is a good question? How do I break them up? I mean, they're like the frickin' golden couple. Not that I can't do it. Of course I can. If anyone can, it's me.

I'll just wear Casey down. I mean, I saw the way she was looking at me last night... She doesn't think I did, I can tell, but I so did. She was as obvious as the nose on her face when she did it. Poor, sweet, naïve Casey. She didn't know just who she was tangoing with... Derek Venturi the Conqueror.

I always get what I want. And right now, damnit, I want her. I don't really know why and I don't care, I just do. Okay, so that's a lie too. I do care. I mean, for crying out loud... She's my stepsister. I shouldn't be feeling this way. But I can't just turn it off, so why should I bother trying? After all, it's not like I'm in love with her or anything... I've never been in love with anyone. A waste of my time, really.

Falling in love would just screw up my plans. There, you caught me. I'm as plan-obsessed as Casey. Of course, my plans are more like... Pass this test and make out with that girl, but whatever... At least I get every last one done.

I'm just lusting after Casey. I'll probably get over it after I kiss her. That's the way it always goes. Almost makes me pity the girls. Almost. Remember, I'm too cool to really care deeply about things. That's why Casey's not cool. Being all sugary sweet might work at that fancy girls' school of hers back in Toronto, but here... At public school? People here see straight through that crap. You're cool if you don't care... about anything.

Now, the real question is... How am I going to break Casey down? Well, let's review what she likes, shall we?

Hmm, she's smart... Applying myself is too much effort. I could ask her for help though... Her boyf-Sam is blond... But blond hair looks horrible on me. She's not into the sweaty look (though that means I can shower like I did today...). But she is into the wet look. So I'm gonna have to be in the bathroom a lot. Like when she's showering... Maybe if I take a quick peek I'll be satisfied, and, bammo, crush-like thing ended! I hope.

I really, really, really hope. Because this Casey thing? It's completely effed up. I mean, I have to work at it. I'm actually catching myself being nice to her... And then I have to fix it by being an ass.

I let her eat my cereal yesterday morning. And I didn't shower yesterday morning because she needed it. For instance.

And then I overcompensated by picking a fight over the milk, saying that her jeans made her butt look fat (total lie there... Those are actually her tightest pair of jeans... And my favorites), and trying to get her to do my English homework for me. It didn't work.

But I see my chance here.

Nora and Dad are leaving today and no one has school. The party's tomorrow. Friday... Halloween. You know, they say anything can happen on Halloween. I'll be in costume. Maybe I can make a play for her...

Speaking of which, I'd better be getting downstairs... I can hear Casey screaming at me even with the music on. Is it completely wrong that I think her voice is hot? Actually, I'd say that's the least of my worries.

"Derek! Our parents are leaving! We won't see them again until Tuesday! You need to say goodbye!" Casey shrieked shrilly. Damn, she's loud... I wonder if she's that loud when... Okay, Derek, stop right there. You don't want to have to take your fourth shower in 36 hours, now do you?

I should go down there... I mean, they are leaving. But hmm, the thought of making Casey come up here and drag me downstairs sounds... nice. And she'll be all feisty and angry and hot. I love it when she's like that. That's why I pick so many fights with her. You know, I should make her wrestle me for the remote again...

Oh, right... She doesn't like perverted guys, does she?

We may have a problem here.

Nah, screw it. She's not psychic. She can't read my mind. I'm good. I just have to be sure to keep my lust hidden. Really, really well.

Hey, as a matter of fact, I think I can hear her footsteps now... Good. Okay, the door's opening. I need to look hot... It'll help if I take my shirt off, right? The door's turning right now... I've got to move fast. Man, who knew that taking off my shirt was a wrestling match? Phew, but I finally got it off and over my head, hurrying to lounge back over on the bed. I had to look completely relaxed.

Even though I'm really wound up right now... Should the thought of seeing her make me this excited? I really don't think this is healthy.

I waited for an impatient two seconds before the door finally opened... And was disappointed to see Edwin. Damn it. I scowled, rolling over and glaring at him. Somehow, my little brother still managed to speak.

"Uh... Dad's leaving, don't you want to say goodbye?" Edwin questioned nervously. How cute is this? My own brother's terrified of me. Priceless.

I rolled over, rolling my eyes at him and pretending as if I had just gotten up or had been interrupted in the middle of doing something really important... Well, I guess thinking about Casey is important... "Tell Casey that if she wants me down there... She's gonna have to come up here and get me herself," I drawled listlessly, purposely altering my voice so I sounded sleepy. Edwin frowned, but then nodded and hurried down the stairs.

I shifted into a more flat position, staring at the door, waiting for Casey to come. She had to come. She wanted me down there, right? To say goodbye to Dad and Nora? Right? Is she coming or not? Jeez, this is more nerve-wracking than I would've thought! Is this how girls feel around dances?

Come on, Man... GET A FRICKING HOLD OF YOURSELF HERE. You sound like a pansy. It's just Casey, for crying out loud!

The very same Casey who you want to... Fill in the blank here.

Chillax, Derek. Chill. Relax. Chillax. Deep breaths now. It's just Casey. You've done this before, and you can do this again.

That, however, was before you liked her, doofus. WHAT? LIKE? I don't like Casey... I just want her for her body... And she looks hot when we're arguing. Come on, one kiss and I'll forget all about it... Hell, I might even forget about it if I see her without make-up. I must be delusional or something.

Casey stormed in my room furiously just as I was thinking this. With a lot more boldness than I would've expected after she walked in on me last night, to tell the truth. I mean, there were some instances in which I just wanted to rip off the damn towel and throw her to the floor and... Okay, Derek, really, bad time to think about screwing Casey.

I mean, dude, she's in the room.

And lookin' hot as ever. Mm, mmm, mm. She looks good. And, once again, she's not even wearing make-up. Though, seriously, how hot would she be with make-up, am I right? And maybe if she parted her hair down the middle or curled it or something... She'd be a total babe like her cousin Victoria. Mmm, Victoria. Damn fine kisser.

Wonder if Casey's a good kisser... I could ask Sam, but I can just imagine the look he'd give me. It would be somewhat like this: "What the hell, man? That's my girl and your sister we're talking about here! INCEST! INCEST! WHERE IS THE DAMN INCEST PATROL WHEN YOU NEED THEM!" I don't know... She doesn't look very... experienced. Bet I could teach her a trick or two. That'd be nice. Mmm... Kissing Casey...

"Derek? What is your problem! Our parents are leaving... For six days... And you're up here, drooling like a vegetable, instead of saying goodbye! What, may I ask, is more important than our parents' departure?" Casey sniped, gesturing around the room, a disapproving look on her face.

I smirked up at her, my eyes half-lidded, arms stretched out behind my head. "I was having a very pleasant dream about me, a girl, and a shower... If you must know," I mumbled, tone heavy with sleep. My smile widened a little mid-sentence. Casey gaped at me, incredulous. What? She knows me... I smirked at the look on her face. Maybe I was working... Wearing her down.

Above all else, this is a battle of wills. It has always been a battle of wills and will continue to be a battle of wills until one of us gives in.

"Too bad you had to interrupt... Unless you want to join us," I yawned, stretching. Casey's eyes widened. She was blushing a little. What the hell is wrong with me? I've seriously gotta stop coming on to her or she'll suspect something! Like the truth... And aside from that, she hates perverts!

I do this to every girl I like. I come on strong. Very strong. Not usually this strong, though.

What can I say? I don't do things half-assed. Except my homework.

"Ugh. Get your mind out of the gutter... You can return to your _dreams... _**alone** when they've left," Casey grimaced exasperatedly, turning away from me. Aww, cute. She's embarrassed. Well, I oughtta make a show for her.

I rose to my feet quickly, approaching her from behind without a word. I debated tapping her on the shoulder, but decided it would be more fun to grab her waist and whisper in her ear... She's going to be so freaked. I gently slid my arms across her hips, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against me.

Casey shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air. "DER-_EK_!" She squealed, her voice hitting a disturbingly high note. She placed her hands on my arms, pushing and trying to break free. But I was much stronger than her, so she wasn't having any luck. Somehow, she managed to twist her body around so that she was now facing me... And flat against me.

This is so backfiring on me.

Her hands insistently pressed against my chest as she struggled to wriggle free. But, once again, I wasn't letting her escape. She was so close... She smelled nice. And it was driving me crazy...

If she was a regular girl, I would've crushed her lips to mine in a kiss right now. We would be making out with reckless abandon, to tell the truth. But this is Casey, and I can't do that with her. Because she's Casey.

But still... She was so close. Here in my arms. Would it really matter if I stole a kiss?

I mean, there's kissing cousins. So, why can't there be kissing step-siblings? It's not illegal...

But, honestly, have you heard some of the things they say about kissing cousins? Yiikes.

Casey would totally freak. Argh, I don't get why I can't do this! I used to do this all the time when I was little... It's part of the reason why they held me back in first grade. I would walk up and just peck all of the girls. Muah, mwah, mwah. I lived for it.

But now... Stupid Casey. I'm powerless... I don't want to let go... I can't let go. But I can't keep holding unto her without doing something rash and insane.

And is it just me, or is it weird that she hasn't said anything this entire time? Does that mean...? Nah, what am I thinking? It can't be! But she hasn't moved. She could've moved, right? Right?

So why isn't she? This is sort of freaking me out... But hmmm... Not that I really mind.

I must be more delusional than previously determined.

She's only inches away...

I'm gonna crack. Maybe not now, maybe in a few minutes, maybe in a year.

But probably in a few seconds, because I can't take much more of this.

Her lips are so... inviting. And pink and just begging for me to kiss them... Kiss her. I want to. But I can't! I can't... I can't.

I'm about ready to snap. I can feel what little impulse control I have fading away and breaking.

God, help me.

I'm going to do it. I'm going to kiss her.

Damn the consequences.

I repeat... God, help me...

It's time. I can't possibly hold on any longer. It's time.

And, thank you, God, saved by Lizzie! "Casey? What are you doing!" Lizzie questioned, sounding alarmed. Her voice rose in pitch and there was a wide look in her eyes. Casey's eyes also widened as she realized just how close we were and exactly what Lizzie thought was going on. Then, suddenly, she'd shoved me halfway across the room... Who knew she was so strong?

Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, fixing Casey with an expectant look. She wanted to know what was going on. After all, Casey and I were supposed to hate each other. Except I didn't really hate her... Most of the time. Casey sighed, running a nervous hand through her hair and shooting me a dirty look. Naturally. "Ask Derek, he grabbed me!" She muttered, glaring at me. Hey, you didn't move! Who knows what could've happened...

Lizzie turned to me, giving me a disapproving look. I rolled my eyes at her, walking past Casey and ruffling Lizzie's hair. I turned back to give Lizzie a look. "Relax, Kid... I was just trying to scare her. Now, do we not have parents to say goodbye to?" I replied coolly, gesturing for them to follow me out. Needless to say, they followed.

We didn't acknowledge what had almost happened. But that was okay. I'm great at playing it cool. After all, I do it for a living... Dad, Marti, Edwin, and Nora were all down there, waiting for us. A vaguely irritated look crossed Nora's face at what I can only assume was my lack of clothing, but I continued walking down the stairs. I nodded to Dad and Nora. They were about ready to lecture me. Fun.

"Morning, Derek... Now, remember the rules. No parties. You may have some friends over, but they cannot stay the night... Especially not Sam. We left you two money for take-out in the secret stash, and your grandmother will be here to pick up Marti in about an hour or two," Nora explained bossily. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I knew that all already. I've been prepping for this for like two weeks. I am beyond prepared. I am a Boy Scout here.

Dad winked and smiled at me, wrapping an arm around Nora's waist. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do..." He drawled. Of course, I knew exactly what Dad had done when he was my age... And I can safely say I won't do some of those things... The things they did in the sixties... Or seventies. Whenever he was growing up... The fashion crises.

"And take care of your brother and sister!" Nora exclaimed worriedly. Casey and I exchanged a look before nodding in chorus. Then Nora went nuts and started hugging and kissing everyone. Which was a bit weird for Edwin and me, to tell the truth (and also a bit weird for Nora). Then Dad hugged everyone, and, without a word more, the two lovebirds were off. Which meant that until Grandma showed up, it was pretty much all us kids.

We waved at the car, faking smiles until it had entirely disappeared. The moment it had, Casey rounded on me furiously, gesturing to my lack of apparel (surprisingly without a blush this time). "Put some clothes on, Derek! Honestly, no grandmother should have to see that!" She sniped shrilly. Oh, gee, thanks. I think you're hot , and I'm actually nice to you for once, and this is what I get?

I glowered back at her, getting into her face a little. That always pissed her off. "Funny. You didn't seem to think so when you were checking me out last night..." I retorted sharply, jabbing my finger to prove a point. Casey paled and blushed at the same time, while Edwin and Lizzie could merely stand there looking floored. What? I'm attractive! I should not have said that.

Casey sputtered, looking absolutely flummoxed. Ooh, I love getting her confused. She looks even better right now. Edwin and Lizzie gaped, surprised to see Casey speechless. Frankly, so was I. But she didn't disappoint me... She spoke a moment or two later. "I was not!" Casey screeched back, still flushed. Wow, great comeback...

I crossed my arms over my chest and snorted. Casey's eyes narrowed at me. She had opened her mouth and was about ready to speak when I interrupted her, a deadly smirk on my face. "I think you barged in the bathroom last night because you wanted to see me naked..." I accused slyly. Edwin and Lizzie's jaws dropped simultaneously, and my smirk grew. Marti, bless her, hopefully didn't understand any of this... If she did, she was liable to be emotionally scarred. Or more aptly, mentally scarred... Like me (you know, the whole liking-my-stepsister-thing... I really think Freud would like to examine me)!

Casey's eyes were wide from shock or fury. "But I didn't see anything, and I didn't want to! It was an accident that I walked in on you last night! I didn't mean to do it!" Casey screeched pleadingly, as if trying to convince Lizzie and Edwin of her innocence. I turned to Edwin, getting a sudden idea.

"Edwin, did you tell Casey I was in the bathroom?" I asked, ignoring Casey's look of desperation. Edwin nodded, remembering something. Casey paled, and I felt myself smirking yet again. Damn... She was gonna hate me.

"I said you might be in there... She was looking for you," Edwin elaborated, glancing briefly at Casey. Lizzie frowned, furrowing her brow. My eyes immediately riveted back to Casey.

"And she found me," I retorted sarcastically. Casey winced, but trudged on bravely, trying fruitlessly to defend herself. It was sort of endearing, really.

"I didn't mean to!" She shrieked, beginning to really panic. No, she looks hottest when she's panicking. Completely desperate and insane is a good look on her._ I _would look good on her. Okay, Derek, cool it! You'll give yourself away. And we can't have that at this crucial stage in our plan, now can we, Derek?

But it's healthy to think this way! No, Derek, it is not healthy to think dirty thoughts about your stepsister! What are you, a Brady?

It is healthy. I am a growing boy. What red-blooded man... In his sexual prime, might I add... I'm almost seventeen, after all! As I was saying, what red-blooded man in his sexual prime doesn't think this way? Sometimes... I'm only human, after all! And so what if I have to take a few extra cold showers... As long as I resist my impulses...

But that's just it, I guess. I've always had shoddy impulse control.

"You could've knocked, but you _didn't_. And you had _some_ idea that I could be in there. The facts speak for themselves. It wasn't an accident, Casey," I pointed out rather insistently. I knew I was wrong, but, the way I said it... It sure didn't sound that way.

"You are seriously **twisted**, you know that, Derek? Besides, _you're_ the one who's been hitting on me!" Casey snapped furiously, hands on her hips, anger rolling off of her in waves. Sure, turn the tables on me, why don't you? So hot though. However, I was getting rather tired of the stunned looks on Edwin and Lizzie's faces to tell the truth.

"Only good-natured joking, Case. You just get so riled up and then you blush... It's hilarious," I said hurriedly, though somehow without losing my cool. I had to be more careful... Cover my tracks. Don't wanna be Mr. Obvious, now do I?

Casey rolled her eyes at me, clearly disbelieving (and with good reason, as I was lying like a rug). "Now do as I say and put some clothes on... Or **else**!" She barked at me. Interesting. My lack of clothes bugs her. Hmm... I could so use this to my advantage. Hehe. Point for Derek!

A slow smirk spreading across my face, I approached her languidly, getting a bit closer to her than she wanted me to be. "Or else _what_?" I whispered directly into her ear, making sure she felt my breath, my presence. It was impossible not to. I was everywhere, especially in this house.

Casey shuddered, shoving me in the direction of the stairs rather abruptly. "Go... Dress," She mumbled, motioning for me to go up the stairs. It was so bad she wasn't even looking at me. Great, just great. Way to go, Derek! Not. Well... Best do as the lady says, right? Y'know, if I ever want to get to make out with her... It might help if I actually listened. "Okay, I'll do it. But put on some make-up, Casey! My eyes are starting to hurt!" I shouted over my shoulder as I sauntered up the stairs.

I could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. And I barely glanced at her. But I hurried getting dressed, pulling on some baggy jeans and a black button-up shirt (I was already hot enough as it was without adding the extra layers). I left it half-unbuttoned because I knew just how much that would set her off. I put a little gel in my hair before washing my hands and heading downstairs, fixing the collar the way I liked it as I went. I smirked, sliding down the banister. Ah, life was good.

Casey glared at me from the bottom of the stairs and I frowned at her in return. "You didn't put on any make-up," I muttered, slightly disappointed. She could be so hot if she did. Casey rolled her eyes, scowling at me, gesturing to my own attire as she spoke.

"And you still don't know how to put on a shirt right. Here, since you're so incompetent, let me do it for you!" Casey countered, roughly grabbing my shirt and starting to button it for me. You know... Maybe I should do this more often... I mean, a little cold is so worth her buttoning up my shirt everyday. Maybe someday she'll unbutton it... Okay, what was I just saying? No dirty thoughts, D. She won't want you. She doesn't want you.

What am I talking about? I'm her stepbrother and she hates me. The only way I'll get her is by surprise or by being in the right place at the right time. But jeez... She won't want you? Man, way to be self-defeatist. All the girls want you. Why do you only care about the one who doesn't? Duh, because she doesn't. You're thinking too much, D. Really. It's becoming a problem. The less you daydream, the more you do.

Well, you better stay in those daydreams, my friend. For a while. Because they won't become a reality for a while. A looong while. Jeez, D, cheer up.

The doorbell rung in the middle of this. Casey was too focused on her task to stop and answer it (I wasn't just letting her button up my shirt, you know. It had to be with a bit of resistance... So she won't get suspicious), and well, I was too focused on her to answer it... "Somebody answer the door!" Casey hollered, glancing around for someone to come.

When no one did, I took it upon myself to accomplish this. "Edwin, get your scrawny butt down here!" I shouted up the stairs. Edwin came running to answer it. And guess who was at the door? Yep, good old Grandma Venturi.

"Oh, Derek, honey, you've got to introduce me to your new girlfriend," Grandma exclaimed, flying in the door. Casey's eyes went as wide as saucers, and she backed away from me as if I had the chicken pox again. It was sort of amusing. But I saw my opportunity and before anyone (namely Casey or Edwin could correct her), I smoothly grabbed Casey and pulled her against me, smiling.

"Granny, I'd like you to meet Casey... My girlfriend," I said lovingly, wrapping my arm around Casey's waist. Edwin stared at me like I was an alien, and Casey's eyes, if it was possible, widened even further. Granny smiled at Casey benevolently, but Casey grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, turning to face my grandmother.

"Um... Grandma Venturi, do you mind if I have a little talk with my... With Derek? For a second? You can, uh, catch up with Edwin... And he can introduce you to Lizzie, who's watching Marti right now. We'll, uh, be right back..." Casey explained somewhat awkwardly. Granny nodded, looking delighted, and turning to Edwin. That being done, Casey dragged me out of the room... None too subtly. Or gently, for that matter. I rubbed my neck as she dragged me into the kitchen.

"What the **heck** was that, Derek? **Me**, your _girlfriend_? Are you _delusional_? You don't even **have** a girlfriend! And she knows you have step-siblings..." Casey hissed violently, beginning to pace like a caged animal. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Kind of hard to know that when you weren't invited to the wedding, now isn't it?" I retorted, moving closer. Casey looked uneasy, but she nodded anyways. It's not like we were invited to the wedding either. They eloped. In Niagara Falls one weekend. How cliché.

Casey had her hands on her hips now, and she was still glaring at me. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Okay, fine, looks like I'm going to have to explain this one. And I can't tell her the whole truth, so this is going to be interesting... Yes, I did say she was my girlfriend for more reasons than the fact that I want to make out with her! "Okay... It's like this. My grandmother has hated every girlfriend I've ever had. They're tramps, they're prudes, they wear too much make-up, they wear too little make-up, they're too drab, they're too bright, they're drunks, they're drugged out, they're too thin, they eat too much... Blah, blah, blah. She always finds a reason, and it doesn't help that I change girlfriends so easily... Anyways, I haven't had a girlfriend lately, so I lied and told her I had a serious one. I never said the name... She did catch us in a pretty compromising position... So, look, just say you're my girlfriend. You'll only have to pretend for a few minutes, and... I'll let you invite all your private school friends to the party tomorrow!" I justified quickly, sounding and feeling a bit more desperate than usual.

Casey mulled it over for a second before finally looking at me, surrendering with a weary sigh. "Okay, I'll do it."

I smiled widely, escorting her out with my hand on the small of her back. Casey gave me a look like: "Who are you kidding, Derek?" But I didn't care, because, until my grandma left... Casey was all mine. And I'm a hands-on kind of guy.

This is going to be so much fun.

Loren ;

Sorry it took me so long. But it's long... So, review! Oh, and I don't own any of the characters/references/things you recognize... like from the show for instance.


	4. Kick Myself

Actually, yeah, I'm so glad everyone thinks Derek's in character... 'Cause he doesn't typically hit on Casey this much. I mean, it's less obvious. It's weird, actually. I think I like writing Derek more, which is weird because minus the insane planning and psycho studying and blue eyes and wearing my hair up all the time, I'm like Casey. Well, okay, I slack off like Derek, but I'm getting straight A's in all my honors classes, and like a B in math (which is not an honors class... Oh well). It's kind of weird writing his more perverted thoughts... lol. But I can turn anything into something dirty, so it's all good...

Anyways, wow! I can't believe that you think my fic's good enough to base yours off of, Abster... It's really not even that good. But, hey, I'm all for another Life With Derek fic. I heart them so.

And, Melissa... You and me both. ;) It's why I spend so much time writing. Man, if I had a stepbrother as hot as Derek... Seriously.

Yeah, Derek's way far from perfect... He's kind of an ass who has trouble expressing his feelings, but... He has feelings. You don't see much of that on the show. Well, when he gave Casey the phone in The Poxfather... And with Marti.

By the way, yeah... The chapters are all song titles... Of Canadian indie bands, I think. Not sure if all of them are (Canadian), though... And the song lyrics actually have a lot to do with the chapter... So, uh, a reward to anyone who can name the song and who writes it... Or something... I dunno. Are there any Life With Derek fanfiction boards? 'Cause if so, tell me... I wanna hunt 'em down.

Actually, I'm thinking of renaming this fic Temporary Insanity... What do you think? Or, wait, is that Consequences? Okay, I can't remember, but it sort of fits both... In that Vein, I would also like to inform you that there's gonna be a killer Casey chapter named Temporary Insanity in a while... After the party and the date and yeah... But it's kinda gonna rock.

I don't own Casey, Derek, Life With Derek, Nora, George, Marti, Lizzie, Edwin, Sam, Victoria, Emily, Fiona, A Tale of Two Cities (though we are reading it in English), Sydney Carton, any of the authors mentioned... Basically nothing you recognize from the show... I do own Derek's grandma, however... Not that I really want to.

* * *

"But not totally heartless."

* * *

What the heck was I thinking? Agreeing to be Derek's fake girlfriend? Okay, come on, Casey, relax... It's just for what, an hour at the most? What's the worst that could happen?

Let's see, shall we? Derek could touch you... In inappropriate places. Yeah, but in front of his grandmother? Come on, even _he's_ not that despicable. He could... hit on you! Um, hello, he's been doing that for like the past week or something. Since a while ago, anyways! He could... Kiss you! Like with tongue and everything... Hah, yeah right... He hates you, you hate him. And besides, I won't let him kiss me! I'm with Sam and hello, he's Derek! Yeah, right. In his dreams... Okay, not in his dreams. I don't want to be in his dreams. They're worse than a letter to Penthouse.

Relax, Casey. Come on, I know you can lie. Lie, lie, lie... Maybe you can trick him into adding something else on to the deal? Yeah, that's good. Well, here goes nothing.

"Sorry about that, Granny. Casey here just wanted a little moment alone. She can barely keep her hands off of me..." Derek stated plainly, without an ounce of shame. I cannot believe he just said that in front of his grandmother! Pervert! In response, I quietly (and with enough force to make him groan) elbowed Derek in the side. His grandmother, bless her soul, only laughed. I was horrified, needless to say.

"**Der**-ek! Not in front of your grandmother!" I hissed, frowning. I am so not into PDA. Especially from my stepbrother. Ew. My stepbrother. Incest. Ew. Ew. Ew.

Derek just smirked condescendingly at me. He is so cocky. I hate that. How he thinks he's God's gift to humanity or something... He's not. He's insufferably full of himself. Lousy jerk. He wrapped an arm loosely around my waist, grinning lopsidedly at me before turning to his grandmother. "She's a little shy in public... But a **tiger** in private..." Derek stage-whispered, winking at his grandmother.

Somehow, the sweet old lady laughed. How could she laugh? I just wanted to smack him upside the head with that huge purse of hers. Then I realized that she was laughing at my discomfort. Frankly, I considered it a credit to my sanity that I had managed to avoid squirming out of his grip already. Stupid brother of mine.

"Derek... Seriously. Cut it out," I snapped, frowning at him. Uh oh. Better backpedal fast. His grandma's looking at me weird. Grimacing inside, I turned to him, trailing a finger up his chest. Derek was more affected than I would've thought. Suddenly his eyes were entirely focused on me. So that's what I have to do to get his attention. It isn't worth it. "Save it for later, okay?" I murmured softly, leaning into his grip. This is so weird and wrong. And weird. Why on Earth am I doing this? Just where, exactly, are Edwin, Marti, and Lizzie? What lousy siblings I've got!

Derek just kind of nodded dully, as if he was in some sort of daze. His grandmother smiled at me, cheerfully leaning out and patting me on the shoulder. "Oh, dear, it's nothing. Derek only does this to girls he really likes. It's quite a compliment, really. The more flirtatious he is, well, the more he wants to do certain things that us grandmothers aren't supposed to talk about with you... if you get my drift, and I'm sure you do. Things a proper girl only does until she's married. You look like proper girl to me. A good change from Derek's normal habit of dating skanks and hos. It's really very nice to meet you, Casey dear," Grandma said, in what was supposed to be a reassuring tone but had quite the opposite affect, patting my hand consolingly.

This lady just said some very un-grandmotherly things. Like, for example, insinuating that Derek wants to... Oh, it's so horrible I can't say it! I don't even want to think about it! But that's what she insinuated, and it won't ever happen! Never ever never going to happen.

Just take deep breaths and force the sheer, utter revulsion down in your stomach, Casey. This will be over soon enough and then you won't even have to look at Derek all weekend. You've got a date with Sam tonight and the party's tomorrow... And then two days of... Emptiness and you alone with Derek. More like three, I suppose. I can and will deal with it... him... whatever!

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Venturi. Derek's told me so much about you. He's very fond of you," I stated hesitantly, not quite knowing what to say, but forcing myself to take her hand and shake it. This was going fine.

"As he is of you," Grandma V chirped brightly. I cannot take much more of this! I gripped Derek tighter than necessary, leaning heavily on him for support. Oddly enough, this seemed to completely unnerve Derek. Good to know. I'll keep it in mind later during our military campaigns, when things aren't going this... well. This is going well, right? Please tell me this is going well!

If this is going well, then why do I feel like I've just stepped in a hornet's nest? I'm in too deep here. I can't pretend to be that... creature's... girlfriend! I just can't! Derek seemed suddenly to regain his composure, and he leaned into me. He was warmer than I was. He's trying to distract me, I know he is. I can't just let him do that. So, in order to bring things back to normal (or remotely normal, at least... Nothing had been normal since I'd moved in here), I changed the subject. "I wonder where Edwin ran off too. Lizzie and Marti should be down here by now..." I pondered curiously, glancing around and praying that someone would show up and put a stop to this.

Derek, who was by this time hanging all over me, grinned and started to kiss my neck. I immediately tensed up and almost violently tore him off of me. Of course, I stopped myself just in time, as I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be his girlfriend, and that girlfriends typically didn't beat their boyfriends up. He laughed, knowing what I had almost done, and it was a deep, throaty snicker. That didn't mean that he stopped. "C'mon, Case, the longer they're gone, the more _fun_ we can have..." Derek drawled, trailing wet kisses down my neck.

Ew, he's getting his slobber all over me! When he said that, I just about smacked him. I forced a smile, jerking my neck away from his lips perhaps a bit more abruptly than was prudent, but it was necessary. "Kiss me in front of your grandmother again, and no one will have _fun_ tonight," I retorted with saccharine sweetness. To further emphasize my point (but mainly so his grandmother wouldn't suspect anything), I pouted and ran a finger down the length of his chest. The look on Derek's face was priceless. Ugh, I am going to have to take a scalding hot shower after this to get the stench of this off of me...

Where were Lizzie, Edwin, and Marti, by the way? They should definitely be here by now. It's been so long since Edwin ran off... I feel like I've been acting for days. On second thought, that's probably because Derek's hands have been constantly on me (at least he hasn't copped a feel... He would be six feet under in an instant). I can't take much more of this. I know I agreed to it, but I'm going insane here... This isn't worth inviting my friends. Actually, come to think of it, Derek would've invited them anyways. I bet he's into the whole private schoolgirl thing. His grandma chuckled, smiling sweetly over at us.

"Ah, to be young and in love..." She sighed, a hand on her chest in a very matronly way, as if she was recalling her own youth. Derek and I, however, were so far from love it was laughable. Derek grabbed my hand, tugging on my hand and forcing me into a spin, spiraling straight into his arms. Ouch. His abs **are** as hard as they look. Derek only looked down at me, bemused, locking his arms tightly around my waist, so tight, in fact, that I could scarcely breathe. Suddenly, Derek was everywhere, permeating every corner of my vision. Annoyingly, he was all I could see, all I could feel, all I could smell. Which was not what I wanted in the slightest. Then, to top it all off, he started slow-dancing with me, and, of course, there was no music. Therefore it was pretty much me pressed against him swaying back and forth slowly, oh, and I couldn't breathe!

"Yes... I just love my Casey so much," Derek whispered, sounding purposefully dazed, almost as if he was actually in love with me. He sounded oddly serious though, and there was this stormy, weird look in his eyes. It unnerved me that he never took his eyes off mine, not even when he kissed his way up my arm... Yeah, like those phony charmers do... There was just something off about the whole situation.

Yeah, Casey, that would be you even agreeing to do this stupid thing in the first place... What were you thinking? I'd say you weren't, but you're always thinking! What happens if Sam finds out about this? How you're being Derek's whore right now. Letting him touch you and kiss you in places Sam hasn't! Derek, your stepbrother. I-N-C-E-S-T spells incest. If Sam ever finds out about this... What will he think? Will he even want me anymore?

Oh, God. I'm at Derek's mercy. He has me exactly where he wants me. He's doing this just to torment me! How can he possibly be so cruel and hateful? He has control over me. He has all the power right now. And I'm Derek's whore! He can do... whatever... he wants... and get away with it! It's just him, me, and the kids right now. He's stronger than I am... The things he could force me to do! Oh, it's horrible! The kids will be gone tonight too... Oh, Lord, what have I gotten myself into!

I know what I'll do. I'll stay over at... At Emily's! She has to offer me asylum. And I can stay with some of my friends back home, at my real home, that is... And Vicky and Aunt Fiona... They're family. I organized her wedding. They have to let me stay.

They just have to.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Derek had practically thrown me against the wall. My back hit the wall roughly, and I could feel ripples of pain radiating down my spine. Ouch. That was going to bruise tomorrow. I tried to rub my lower back, but Derek snatched my hand roughly, throwing himself upon me and literally pinning me flat against the wall... and him. He started kissing my neck, roughly, insistently, sloppily... and I couldn't do one thing to stop him. I could only stare blankly at his grandmother, who somehow now seemed like a voyeur, holding my head up as high as I could with as much pride as I could muster. This wasn't much, however, as I felt dirty, sick, cheap, and used.

By Derek. Derek Venturi, the bane of my existence. I have never hated a single person as much as I hated Derek in that one unbearably long moment. I thought I'd hated him before, and I had, but it was nothing compared to this! Nothing!

"Case, get into it! Respond a little," Derek hissed breathlessly, lifting his lips only a few millimeters above my skin before returning to his task. I felt his hot breath against my skin and felt myself flush. This was so humiliating. What exactly was I supposed to do here? Moan or something, I guess...

I wanted to hurt Derek, so I figured I might as well do the whole digging-my-nails-into-his-back-thing that they did in all the movies. I moaned, I writhed (though mostly from disgust and trying my hardest to break free), I groaned... I suppose you get the drift. "Oh, _Derek_!" I breathed hoarsely, clutching him. I am a much better actress than I thought I was.

Derek was (ew) sweaty and oddly stiff for someone in the midst of a fit of passion. He was also getting tired. I saw my opportunity. Soon he'd be too tired to continue. All I'd have to do was moan his name a few more times. Piece of cake.

"**Derek**, _oh_, Derek! ...**Oh**... _Derek_..." I moaned huskily, sounding winded and breathless as I arched my neck to... as they say in those corny romance novels... "give him better access" to said throat. He better not be giving me hickies, that's all I'm saying. If he does, he's beyond dead.

Derek seemed to react oddly every time I said his name. He backed away faster than a speeding bullet, and every last one of his muscles tensed. He also seemed to be groaning a lot more. He was getting tired. Yes! Victory is so mine! Finally, I could be RID of him. Getting rid of him involves a shower, you know... Ah, a shower. That sounds so nice.

Derek impulsively pried his face off of my neck, backing away far enough so he could look at me. Have a decent look at me, that is. For one brief moment he did. His dark eyes bored deep into mine. Then a sullen, angry look came over his face abruptly, and he moved towards me violently. He shoved me into the wall even harder this time, plastering himself against me hard. His body was flush against mine and it hurt a little. It was difficult to breathe and he was all up in my face. I could feel every taut muscle, every sharp curve, every bone in his body. If we got any closer, I would become him.

Suddenly, his face was closing in on mine. The distance between his lips and mine became exponentially microscopic by the second. Out of the blue, here he was, his lips less than a millimeter from mine. I could feel the warm clouds of his breath on my face. He had heat. Derek was going to kiss me. Derek was going to kiss me! Now things have gotten seriously out of hand.

He seemed different suddenly, as if he was trying to be the hero in an action movie or something. He was attempting to be... a romantic. Derek, a romantic? Yeah, right. He might be a charmer, but he's no romantic. That being said, he tilted my chin up and was stared hungrily at my lips for a moment before he decided to make his move. I'd grown resigned to the fact that Derek was going to kiss me. Not okay with it... But resigned. It was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. That's life for you.

Our lips were literally a millimeter apart. If either of us had moved in the slightest, we would be kissing. If either of us breathed... we'd be kissing. Bless all that is holy... That happens to be when Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti finally showed up. We heard rather than saw them, I should say.

"Derek, bro, what are you doing?" Edwin questioned curiously, peering over towards us (I assumed). I can't even imagine what it must've looked like. On second thought, it probably looked almost exactly like what it was. To tell the truth, I had no idea what that was exactly.

Derek groaned audibly and very loudly with frustration, though towards whom I had no idea. He turned his head abruptly to face his family, and as he did this, his lips grazed mine fleetingly, accidentally. It was almost impossible for that to not have happened. There was, after all, only a millimeter of space between us. That's what I kept telling myself. I kept telling myself that because I had no other choice. I felt his warmth leave me, the pressure of his weight against me slowly relaxing and easing up as the distance between us increased quickly. Thank God.

If Derek realized what had just happened, he didn't mention it, or even acknowledge it. Which, finally, was something I was wholly comfortable with. Yes, it's best if I forget that... whatever... happened. Nothing really happened anyways. So what, our lips touched? Big deal. It wasn't even full lip contact. Just a little brush... No puckering, no smooching, no tongue, no moaning, not even a bumping of noses. It was barely even a touch... It lasted for what, a second at the most? So why am I obsessing over it?

Isn't that obvious? This is Derek we're talking about here. He's supposed to hate you, so why did he just...? No, Casey, don't question his motives... They're evil, of course, because Derek is evil and vile. Besides, the more you question them, the more you think about him, and that's just letting him win. We can't have that, now can we, Casey?

He's already under my skin enough as it is already.

Derek caught my dazed stare from the corner of his eye and stared back. It was really starting to unnerve me.

"Smerek? What're you doing?" Marti asked innocently. She smiled sweetly up at her big brother. Ah, she loved Derek so much... He loved her too. Sweet. Derek's frown deepened as he shot me a worried look. He wanted to know how to explain this. Well, I wasn't going to help him, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it! So I looked away, down at the ground, and suddenly all those feelings of being cheap and dirty hit me like a brick wall. I felt disgusted and sick to my stomach. Suddenly I wanted to throw up, and I wished, for the millionth time since Mom had gotten married, that I would never ever have to see Derek again. Of course, unfortunately for me, this was not an option.

"Nothing, Smarti..." Derek replied nervously, affectionately ruffling her hair. He gestured to his grandmother, whom we'd both forgotten, speaking, "Granny's here to pick you up and take you with her... Isn't that great?" Marti nodded emphatically, and Granny V beamed back at her. It seems Derek inherited her smirk. I say that because she's smirking at me in a way that is not at all matronly. Seems she thought I was a tramp or something... Just fabulous, and as if family reunions weren't awkward enough...

Lizzie handed Marti her overnight bag, and like an obedient soldier, Marti marched over to her grandmother. Aww, she was so cute... Sometimes I felt like Marti was the only decent Venturi (excepting George, that is). Here she was, leaving me, along with Lizzie, my so-called sister, and Edwin... Leaving me all alone with Derek the Insane. That's just great, isn't it? Marti handed her grandmother the bag, briefly glancing over at Derek before running into his open arms. Derek hugged her tightly, smiling genuinely down at Marti. "Love you, Smarti," He muttered, starting to let her go.

She smiled widely, kissing Derek messily on the cheek. It was a total aww moment, or, at least, it would've been, if I didn't absolutely loathe Derek. "I love you too, Smerek," She said quietly before racing over and grabbing her grandmother's hand. She waved happily at all of us before exiting cheerfully out the door. We all flocked to the door then, watching the car containing my stepsister and her grandma drive off. Finally, when it was visible no longer, I pivoted to face Derek and slapped him hard across the face.

Damn, that felt good.

Then I pushed past him, starting to make my way up the stairs. A shower sounded amazing right now. I just needed to wash all this off of me... especially before my date with Sam. Derek suddenly ran up the stairs and grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop and look at him. His grip hurt my arm just a little. Not enough to bruise, per se, but enough to give me a sensation of pain. Ouch. In short, it was the most annoying kind of pain because you knew it wouldn't show, yet you couldn't get rid of it.

"Where do you think you're going?" Derek growled, that dark look back in his eyes. This one I recognized... anger. I jerked my arm roughly from his grip, feeling the anger flare up in me. I wondered vaguely if the fire was in my eyes too...

"I'm going to take a shower. Do you have a problem with that?" I said coolly, trying my hardest not to snap on him yet. There was a very thin line between anger and hysteria, and I didn't want to tread it today. Derek fixed me with a look and blocked my path.

"Yeah," He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, "I do. I'm using that shower." No, Derek, you aren't! This time, you won't get what you want... over my dead body! That shower is mine. Got it? Mine.

"I don't want to talk to you, Derek! I need to wash you off of me..." I snapped bitterly, shoving him rather violently out of my way. I passed him without a look, walking to the bathroom. Unbeknown to me, he followed me right into the bathroom. Somehow we always get trapped in that bathroom together. I shut the door behind me, sighing in relief, and walked over to the shower. I turned the water on and walked over to the mirror.

I undid my hair and took off my shirt, turning around and starting to undo my jeans. And there he was. Derek. He smirked at me, eyes openly roving over me. I blanched, crossing my arms over my chest self-consciously. "Oh, don't stop on my account..." Derek sneered, playing with the buttons on his shirt. I fought the urge to throttle him.

"Get **out**, Derek!" I snarled, trying to push him out of the room. However, he'd somehow managed to lock the door when I wasn't looking. Naturally. He obviously wasn't planning on going anywhere. I was about ready to open the door and lock him out when I heard a rather loud knock on the door. Bang, bang, bang. Derek and I both froze, straining to listen for the voice.

"Casey, baby, you in there?" It was Sam. Derek and I looked to each other in horror. Oh, crap. This was about to get messy.

"You can't tell Sam... about what just happened. If you have any shred of humanity in you... You just can't," I hissed pleadingly, feeling even lower than I had before. I was begging him... Begging him to not mention it to Sam. Derek put a finger to my lips and I fought the urge not to bite it. He did, however, look sincere this time.

"Relax, Sis, I'm not going to tell him. Trust me, I'll get it just as bad as you will... if not worse. Now get in the shower!" Derek mumbled, pushing me towards the shower. I stopped right at the edge of the tub. There was no way I was going in there in my jeans. Derek noticed this in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt and scowled, grabbing my (still) bare shoulder. I squirmed uncomfortably under his touch. Why does he not understand the whole keep-your-hands-to-yourself policy? It's not that difficult, you know...

"Look, just get in the shower and stand under the showerhead with your head turned away from the door and your hair over your face. Do what I tell you to do, okay?" Derek barked softly, setting me in the shower. Sam was still pounding on the door. Derek hurriedly threw off his shirt, hid mine, and opened the door in a flash. Then suddenly he slid into the shower with me, pulling the curtain all the way shut. He looked at me pleadingly, and then I knew what he was going to do.

I heard the door open and obediently turned my face away. Derek, for the millionth time all day, kissed my neck. I was starting to get very, very sick of this. Luckily enough for me, the fear overcame my revulsion. Sam, my boyfriend, was out there, in the bathroom... and I was in here, in the shower, letting his best friend kiss my neck. It wasn't right.

"Casey? Are you in there?" Sam called loudly, perhaps too loudly. Derek felt that Sam was about to open the door, so he broke away from my oh-so riveting neck long enough to call out to Sam.

"Think again, Sammy!" He hollered, poking his head out of the curtain. Sam smirked at Derek, who smirked in response. "Hey, man, do you mind? I've got a girl in here and I'm a _little_ busy right now... So could you come back later?" Derek responded calmly and breathlessly. Ugh. A bit eager, wasn't he? Oh, who am I kidding? This is Derek we're talking about. Why am I even surprised?

What he said, however, was more than good enough to make Sam leave. As soon as the door shut, I jumped out of the shower with Derek hot on my heels. Once again, he locked the door. All alone... yet again. I shuddered, feeling cold and missing the shower's warmth. I still felt dirty. Derek put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched and rocketed away from him, suddenly screaming at him, "Don't touch me, Derek! Don't touch me!"

I sure hope that Sam's long gone by now, and that no one's listening to this. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, feeling as pitiful as I looked. I looked like a drowned rat, water dripping down my sides and soaking into the rug. I leaned heavily on the sink, still staring wide-eyed at my reflection. Derek hesitantly approached me from behind, but I shrunk away, and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, okay, Casey? I let things get a little out of hand and..." Derek began awkwardly, sitting on the edge of the tub. He almost sounded truly contrite, but I wasn't buying it. I knew him better than that. I shook my head, turning to face him, forcing a laugh, and fixing him with a glare that could melt ice. Derek recoiled from the force of my intense stare.

"No, Derek. You knew exactly what was happening. You used me," I growled violently, rounding on him, jabbing at him with my pointer finger. He made me feel like scum, like filth. Like I was a slut, even though I'm not. Why did he do that, why?

Derek looked up at me, a pained expression on his face. The smirk had long since fallen off his face, replaced by a frown. Why was he so distraught? What did he have to worry about and feel guilty about? Then slowly, slightly unsteadily, he got up and padded over to me. "I really am sorry, Casey. I did some things you probably weren't ready for and..."

He really sounded sincere this time, and I wanted to believe him, I really did... But how could I, just like that? I couldn't. "Yeah, you were kissing me, touching me, pressing yourself against me in places no one, not even _Sam_, ever has. You made me feel like your **whore**. And I had to just let you keep _touching_ me and plaster a fake smile on my face like I was okay with it..." I cried loudly, feeling so ill I could barely stand, and then suddenly there were tears streaming down my face. Without saying a word, I tried to leave, but I wound up slipping on the floor. Fortunately for my head, I fell into Derek's arms instead of on the floor.

Derek was wet, but so was I. I wanted to get out of his arms; I wanted to leave, but I lacked the strength to even move. I didn't even care that he repulsed me. I was so tired and weak now, too tired and too weak to care. I merely sunk deeper into his arms, burying my face into his chest and letting all my sobs come out. Derek, oddly enough, didn't pull away... He merely held me closer, muttering how... how sorry he was.

And then I realized that he was really sorry. "I'm sorry, Casey... I crossed a line. I didn't mean to... I just thought that it would be better if I kissed you there than if I kissed your face or your lips... And I shouldn't have been so rough with you but I was just... I'm sorry. I thought you would say something if I was totally out of line. I'm so sorry... I'll let you invite all of your friends to the party and I'll take you out to the movies tonight... my treat... And anything else you want... Just please, stop crying!" Said Derek a bit desperately, apologizing like mad. I still didn't look at him; I just kept crying, thinking about how worthless he'd made me feel.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that... But I don't think about you like that. If I had known you had a problem with it, I promise I would've completely backed off, given you space, told Granny the truth... What can I say to make you feel better? Like... I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul?" Derek rambled uneasily, as if he was consumed by guilt... Something I had a lot of trouble believing. My head shot up at those all too familiar words and suddenly I'd forgotten my tears, instead gaping at Derek.

"Since when do you read?" I blurted, awed and surprised. He doesn't read. So... How does he know the quote? It's sort of obscure... and really, an incredibly, insanely romantic thing to say to a girl. Not that I'll be telling him that anytime soon... A wry smile finally appeared on Derek's face.

"I don't," He replied bemusedly, fixing me with a decidedly warm look. This was a side of Derek I had never seen... directed at me, at least. Except to Marti...

I frowned. "Then how are you quoting Sydney Carton?" I inquired, furrowing my brow. Some errant tears still trickled down my face. Derek surprised me even further by absentmindedly brushing them away. I stared at him, floored, and his skin tone changed a little (though I couldn't quite point out if he was blushing or if he had paled). Naturally, he immediately retracted his hand, the familiar nonchalance beginning to reappear on his face as he shrugged coolly.

"So reading A Tale of Two Cities actually _does_ come in handy... Wow..." Derek joked, trying to make me laugh. Men are almost always completely lost once a woman cries. Pretty much. Derek paused before speaking again. "Actually, I played Sydney in the school production last year. Got some rave reviews..."

I nodded, trying to imagine Derek getting guillotined. Somehow it didn't seem as amusing as it would've been a few minutes ago. It's because Derek's being nice to me. He's never nice to me, which is why I can think cheerfully on his death sans guilt.

However, I could picture him as the character... Long hair and all. Derek was sarcastic, popular, a slacker, smarter than he appeared, crafty, not at all open with his feels, and, well, a jerk... He fit the mold perfectly. Though I don't think Sydney Carton wore a leather jacket.

I know the quote. I just don't get how he knew to say that... I love the classics. Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, Hugo, Dickens, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky... You name it. A Tale of Two Cities happens to be one of my favorites... That quote he said? I even know where it's from. Book the Second (I'm not kidding, that's actually how it's written), The Golden Thread, Chapter Thirteen, _The Fellow of No Delicacy_. I'm actually impressed (and with Derek, too! Who would've thought?)...

Derek looked up at me somewhat warily. "Forgive me?" Derek asked hesitantly. It was a bit hard for him to even get the words out... He must really not be used to apologizing to people. I suppose change is good. Especially if Derek stops being such a... It appears I spoke too soon. He's staring at my chest... Of course. Why wouldn't he be? Hmm, who's checking who out now?

I looked him over with a shrewd eye, forgetting, of course, that he was not wearing a shirt and was soaking wet. And, um, when I looked at him, he was sort of in the middle of taking off his pants. I really have an innate sense of bad timing lately. My cheeks burned and I quickly looked away, crossing my arms over my chest embarrassedly. "It's a decent enough start, I suppose... But that really depends on if you stop staring at my chest, Derek..." I retorted, forcing a brief, unnatural chuckle.

Derek smirked over at me, and suddenly, he was himself again. Great. Just when I thought he was going to be nicer... He's not. Of course. Why on Earth was I surprised? After all, this IS Derek we're talking about here... Derek. "Same goes for you, McDonald," Derek rejoined cheekily. The smile fell off my face faster than a speeding bullet.

That being said, Derek proceeded to continue staring at me and thus, blatantly checking me out... again. I was getting fed up with that... I looked then to the shower, which was still running. I was cold and wet, and it was calling out to me. Derek followed my line of sight slowly. His eyes narrowed, noticing the target of my gaze, and soon came to look me full in the face. We might've wrestled for it, but we were both wearing too little clothes for this... At least, by my standards. By Derek's, I strongly suspect he would put up little to no resistance just so long as someone was straddling him. With me in such little clothes already, I decided not to tempt fate.

Both of us then attempted to make a mad dash for it, but I managed to (somehow) flip over the side of the tub, landing flat on my back on the bottom of the tub. My back felt even more bruised than before. Somehow Derek also managed to slip and wound up (surprise, surprise) on top of me. Oof. That really hurt. We lied there in an awkward silence for a while before Derek grunted, pushing himself up. He rose to his feet and quickly bent down, grabbing my hand to pull me up. Down right decent of him, and out of character...

"I get the shower," Derek stated effortlessly, crossing his arms over his chest. I glared at him with narrowed eyes, shaking my head no.

"Derek, I was just crying... because of you. Don't you think that I deserve it?" I pouted, hoping to appeal to him. Derek, however, was as impassive as a stone. Feeling rather disgusted with myself, I placed my hand upon his forearm, leaning forward a little. His breathing hitched a little, but other than that, he showed no signs of change. I was so out of my league in this attempt to get what I wanted. Guilt worked sometimes, but Derek was the master.

Fixing me with a winning smile, Derek started to undo his jeans. "You can join me if you want, Case..." Derek drawled, an amused look flickering in his eyes. I gaped at him, which I suppose was rather stupid, as he has been hitting on me all day. He kept on smirking and began to unzip his jeans.

"Don't call me Case!" I muttered, feeling very, very uncomfortable and hitting him hard in the chest. This shower was so small. I was getting extremely claustrophobic here in this tiny enclosed space, and Derek disrobing wasn't helping in the slightest. Derek frowned for an instant, rubbing his chest where I had hit him.

"Girl, I could do this all day..." Derek returned huskily. His grin widened and reappeared. He gave me a quizzical look, as if he was surprised that I was still in here (and, trust me, I was too). Then, giving me a devilish smirk (because he knew he was about to win), he started to pull down his pants. But I refused to leave. I was not willingly going anywhere.

Derek looked even more surprised now. He raised his eyebrows, eyes a little wider than usual, but he shrugged and smoothly slid his jeans all the way off, haphazardly chucking them over the curtain. I heard them hit the floor with a wet, resounding smack and looked to see where they had fallen. I looked back quickly, and Derek stared at me for a long, searching moment. His hand lingered on the waistband of his boxers (which I avoided looking at) as he stared at me. "Didn't think you'd stick around this long," He uttered hoarsely.

I shrugged, meeting his eyes. "What can I say? I'm stubborn," I replied stiffly, crossing my arms over my chest. Derek nodded, and I could read his thoughts... What an understatement, he seemed to say. Of course, that was the pot calling the kettle black. I had been a lot more flexible than he had.

"Me too..." Derek mumbled vaguely. He flexed his fingers as if itching to do... something. Just what that something was I hadn't a clue in the slightest, but whatever it was... It scared me. "Looks like you actually want to shower with me..." Derek pointed out mockingly. I didn't let it phase me.

"I could easily say the same about you, Derek. Besides, I'm not the one undressing in your presence, now am I?" I countered, placing my hands on my hips defiantly. Derek snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself, Casey," Derek snarled in a cool, detached tone. It was my turn to roll my eyes. I gave Derek an "Oh, please" sort of look. The water was still warm, but it was starting to feel tepid. One of us would have to get out and soon.

Finally, Derek shrugged, his hand still on his waistband. "Have it your way," He breathed hotly, starting to take off his boxers. It was then that I finally lost my composure. I couldn't stay in that tiny hole with him any longer. I bolted out of that shower as if I was on fire, racing to the door which I struggled with, finally throwing it open violently and racing out into the hall.

"Thanks, Case!" Derek called after me smugly. I didn't look back. I was too angry. My blood boiled. At his comment, I suddenly stopped, turning to look at the shower.

"I told you, don't call me that!" I shrieked back, furious, holding on to the doorway with white knuckles.

I heard Derek chuckle. He was still laughing as he stuck his wet head out of the curtain to offer a reply. He blew me a kiss. "Love you too, Case!" He exclaimed, snickering. He blew me another kiss, and I felt my cheeks flush in fury. I didn't bother to reply. I turned around and stalked down the hallway, freezing more and more with each step.

Why can't I be more assertive with him? How is it that I always wind up giving in to him? And I end up back here again, kicking myself for being so stupid... maybe I ought to kick somebody else for a change... Like Derek.

I slammed the door to my bedroom shut behind me, punching a button on my radio. A song, my type of music, was already playing.

_I'm diving headfirst into something... Better judgment's gone a-running... I'm headed straight into disaster... We all know what he is after, tonight, tonight..._

_Nothing but trouble on his mind... I come across it all the time... Not getting slaughtered from it... Kick myself for getting careless... Kick myself for getting like this..._

He does have it coming, after all. Karma will come back to bite him one of these days, and with my luck, maybe I just might be there to see it... Yeah, someday some girl will get under his skin in a big way. He's going to fall in love, and it's going to be priceless. Someday he's going to get rejected. Flat-out stone-cold rejected. The tables will have turned.

And, so help me, when that happens, I'm going to laugh my ass off.

Loren ;

Thanks for all the great reviews. I love them; they make my day...

Seriously, though... How many times have Derek and Casey almost kissed in this story? Well, okay, they technically DID kiss in this chapter, but it doesn't count... I mean, there's the time in the last chapter... And the sort of moment in Casey's chapter... Anyways, review! Love you guys!


	5. Lethal Lipgloss

Ah, the long-awaited (and I do mean long... the chapter's 12 pages!) update!

Once again, Derek's POV. I don't own anything from LWD. I also don't own the songs Lethal Lipgloss and Flipside. They belong to The Riff Randells and The Weekend. Um, and they walk home and bond in the next chapter... Then the party... Which takes up like 3-4 chapters... Then the after party (might be the fourth chap or something, I dunno)... Then Temporary Insanity, then, uh, no idea...

Sigh.

Anyways, enjoy, you mongrels! ;) Love all of your wonderful reviews, by the way!

* * *

"I just think you should leave the poor girl alone."

* * *

Today has been... awesome. I got to touch Casey like I've been wanting to for ages. I lost count of how many times I kissed her neck. It was amazing. I think I came on a little too strong. She was actually crying... sobbing really. I didn't know she was so torn up about it... I didn't think she'd feel that way at all.

I mean, I don't think she's a whore. I never have. She's innocent little Casey. Sammy hasn't even kissed her neck. I don't date girls like Casey... usually. If she was a whore, I would have made out with her already. Casey's not like that. I think the fact that she cried proves that.

I felt really bad about it too. Absolutely horrible. I completely forgot all of my previous happiness and then felt so guilty for even being happy in the first place. I really did mean what I said to her. I don't usually apologize, you know. Not even to my family most of the time. Well, except that one time when I cussed Dad out (for getting married to Nora out of the blue like that). Of course I felt like he was going to throttle me, so it might've been more fear than sincerity, but whatever...

I just wish I had a switch and I could just turn off the jerky part of me. I'm always at my worst around her. And honestly, if I want to be able to kiss her (even once), without her slapping me, I was going to have to be nicer... But not too nice. Then she'd catch on.

Actually, I shouldn't be worried about that. She seems rather dense. I mean, I said this totally romantic thing from one of her favorite books (she has it underlined in her copy), and she didn't apply that to reality. Sydney had feelings for Lucie. The guy pretty much died for her. I'm not saying that I have those kinds of feelings for Casey because I don't... But I sure don't see her as a sister, and I like her a bit more than I should. As I was saying... There is an obvious romantic allusion there. And she totally didn't notice. Okay, I take that back. She either didn't notice or didn't care.

Kind of like that kiss... Neither of us said anything about it (and who would?). It was sort of an awkward topic to bring up, after all. And remember, I'm Mr. Cool, so of course _I_ can't bring it up! But it was... nice. To say the least. And waaaay too short. It's weird, but even though I sorta did kiss her, I want to do it even more... I'm going frickin' insane here!

If I want to do something, then, well... I do it. That's why I've got a wallet filled with pictures of girls from Quebec to British Columbia. That's why my black book's about two inches thick. Yeah, and I'm not even seventeen yet. I'll be seventeen in January. It's only a few months away.

Sweet Sixteen I am not. Casey's still fifteen. She's going to be sixteen in December. Did you know that the mutual consent age here is 14? Not that I'm thinking about it or anything... Okay, so that might possibly sort of kinda be a... mistruth. Okay, so it's a lie. A completely baldfaced lie. But I'm a sixteen-year-old guy, what do you expect? I mean, just pointing it out, you know... That reminds me... I should get her something really good for her birthday, you know, to make up for the fact that I've been such an ass to her since... ever.

This is literally killing me! I told you I have shoddy impulse control, and, well, I do. Seriously, how many times have I almost kissed her since I found out that I think she's... Well, you know what I mean! It's a lot, I'm telling you! But she didn't pull away... So, hmm, that's interesting and maybe it means she's... Oh, I don't know! Stupid Casey.

And that's why I'm standing outside the shower (I've been hanging around the bathroom a lot lately), waiting for her. Okay, so maybe my intentions are slightly less than honorable... But, hey, I've been standing here a good twenty minutes without pulling back the curtain. She doesn't even know I'm here yet. The operative word in that sentence being _yet_. She ought to in a second or two... After all, she just turned off the water.

Her hand groped around the bathroom for a towel. We always have a towel shortage here in the Venturi household. However, being the kind gentleman that I am, I spotted a clean, dry towel and handed it to her, or, rather, her hand. It's hilarious, because Casey didn't even register that a "disembodied" hand had handed her a towel. She flipped out when she opened the door and saw me standing there. She screamed so very, very loud. I feel deaf. My poor ears.

"Nice to see you too, Casey," I muttered sarcastically. Casey scowled at me, wrapping the towel tighter around herself self-consciously. I stared at her appreciatively, my eyes roving over her wet, dripping legs... Okay, down boy! Man, I sound like a dog trainer... Well, to be fair, Derek, you are a dog. Hitting on your stepsister... But I'm no Ryan Phillippe and she's not catching on. Agreeably, I think you're lucky she hasn't. "Looking _good_, Case..." I mumbled, trying to keep the drool down to a minimum.

Casey groaned loudly, obviously aggravated. Well, what can I say? I bring the best out in people... Or is it the worst? Damn. Oh well. Okay, now, Derek, we are not going to think about how hot Casey looks right now, even though she does... all wet like that and, uh, why am I having trouble swallowing? Ooh, she's getting angry! ...But I'm not supposed to be thinking about that. Oh, kinda like how you're supposed to not be attracted to her in the first place, right? Riight.

"**Derek**! Why is it that _everywhere_ I go, everywhere I turn... You're **always** there! Driving me absolutely up the _wall_! And the bathroom... You're **always** in the bathroom when I am! What are the odds of that? I mean, _seriously_! And would you **cut** it out with the flirtation; it's getting on my nerves!" Casey screeched, releasing her anger. Her anger was founded and I got why she was angry, but still... It sorta stung. Oh, great. I'm going soft. Well, that's just peachy.

I rolled my eyes at her outburst. Okay, so I was sort of tuning her out... Not that that's a new thing. Besides, it makes her get angrier... I love it when she's angry... Especially when she's angry, dripping wet in a towel... Derek, man, drooling, hello!

Casey was glaring at me darkly. She then, of course, noticed what exactly I was looking at and (unfortunately, damnit!) crossed her arms over her chest... Which sort of acted like a push up bra and... Man, you're not a dog. Close your mouth and, and stop looking! And drooling...

"Relax, Casey... I was just coming to see if you were ready to go to the movies with me tonight," I mumbled dryly, fascinated by a drop of water that fell from her hair, landed on her neck, and started to slowly slide down her chest, joining with other drops... I bet her skin's soft. Her skin's flushed from the shower. Casey gave me a surprised look.

Like she didn't think I'd keep my promise or something. She was crying. How could I not keep it? I always keep my promises...

No, D, you don't.

Fine! Whatever.

"You _knew_ I was in the shower. Remember, I had to practically pull you out?" Casey countered sharply. I snorted, hands on my hips. She didn't pull me out. After all, remember how squirmy she is around me? She basically kept screaming and banging on the door until, despite the fact that I happen to like her voice, it was driving me insane. So I relented, got out, and (once again) had just barely gotten the towel around myself before she walked in.

She really tried her hardest not to stare this time... But, baby, I'm irresistible. I mean, I'll get Casey, just you watch! I got Sandra, didn't I? Yeah, a kid-loving environmental vegetarian. My total opposite. Okay, that's not true. **Casey's** my opposite.

Feminist, chauvinist (she would probably add a pig to the end). Nerd, cool. Kind, cruel. Smart, dumb. Klutzy, athletic. Cultured, barbaric. Even our styles are different... I'm like... hard rock. And she's like... Sugar and Spice. We're both hot, though...

See, there's a very good reason I have to go about this carefully... I have little to no qualms about making out with my stepsister... Dating her, sc... Okay, D, don't get ahead of yourself! She has to like you first. And right now the girl hates you. However, Casey... She knows it's completely "wrong".

I bet she thinks it's incest or something. I mean, it sort of is... But it's not like we share any of the same DNA. If we had kids, they wouldn't be... Whoa! Kids! Kids! This girl is making you nuttier than a fruitcake.

She probably doesn't even think about it... The 'what-ifs'. It's exactly like her. Doesn't want to bother her poor little brain by actually thinking about serious issues. Not that she doesn't think. She thinks a lot, especially seriously. It's just... if there's something she doesn't want to think about... she doesn't. She just... doesn't. And so she's probably not thinking about me.

Not that you could tell by the way she was looking at me.

"How could I forget? You almost walked in on me **again**!" I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Casey blushed and I grinned. She sighed, grimacing a little.

"But I can't go to the movies with you... I've got a date with Sam," Casey said smoothly, walking past me, towards the mirror, with all the dignity she possessed. I'm impressed. She's acting like I'm not even here... But we're going to the movies tonight.

Us.

I don't care that she has a date with Sam. We will go to the movies together.

Period.

"I'll pay!" I declared loudly. Casey immediately whipped around to face me... so fast her towel almost fell off (I wish it had!). Unfortunately, she grabbed it before it could fall. There was this incredibly excited look on her face. And I had put it there. Me. Not Sam.

Derek: 1, Sam: 0.

Uh, hey, Dipstick, did you forget that Casey's his girl, not yours? No! You're going to have to give him a point then.

Fine! Derek: 1, Sam: 1. There. We're even! You happy now?

No... Wait for it, wait for it...

Casey smirked a little, frowning (rats!), and thinking for a moment. "Well... I guess you could maybe tag along with Sam and me..." She mumbled distractedly. But I don't want to go to the movies with Sam. You go to the movies because of the darkness... You can do whatever you want in the dark.

Derek: 1, Sam: 2.

No, no, no! Wait! She was staring at me for a very long time when I was shirtless...

Two points, Derek.

And, and, and... I've been in the shower with her!

Three... Nice, D.

Not to mention that she's met my dad, my brother, my sister, my grandmother, my stepmother, and, of **course**, my two stepsisters...

Four... Ah, but wait! Sam gets one point because he is not Casey's stepbrother. Three, Sam. Oh well, I'm still beating him! All Hail King Derek!

Yo, Kingy... He gets another point because Casey doesn't hate him.

And I get one because I'm the most popular guy in school... I'm still winning!

Sam gets another point because Casey actually likes him. And she kisses him, so that's another. Jeez... He has like 6.

And I have 5. But I've kissed her neck. Something her brilliant boytoy hasn't done. That's two. Plus the fact that we live together... And I quoted her favorite book... Two more!

Let's see... Derek: 9. Sam... 6.

Life is good. I'm beating the wuss. What can I say? I'm a bad loser. It's my way or the highway, baby!

Okay, I am not "tagging along". Derek Venturi does not tag along. Period. I need a date. If I have to go with Princess Prude over there and Captain Priss, I am bringing some hot chick with me. I mean, do I look like a masochist to you? I'm not watching Casey and Sammy holding hands all night. If I do, I'm going to snap and lose what part of a brain I have left.

Hm... And I think I know exactly what girl to bring.

"Hey, Case, what's your cousin's number?" I drawled amusedly. Casey rolled her eyes irritatedly, groaning. She just hated Victoria. For the most part, that is.

"You know, she's _your_ cousin too, Derek..." Casey muttered, scowling. If I didn't know her so well, I'd say she was jealous. But I do, and she's obviously not. Notice how she avoided answering my question. Yeah, sneaky of her, isn't it?

I rolled my eyes this time, snorting. Casey shot me a look. "So?" I challenged boldly, absolutely nonchalant. Honestly, Case, you think I have a problem dating my cousin by marriage? Especially when I'm lusting after my stepsister? I'm no hypocrite. Besides, she's a real good kisser. "We're only related by marriage..."

Casey made a tsking noise, narrowing her eyes at me, her hands on her hips... I could just reach out right now and... grab the towel and... throw it off... and... Bad move, Casey... You're just so lucky I can resist temptation... SO lucky, babe.

"You're **still** related," Casey stated bluntly, but I could tell she couldn't really argue against me... And I was about to prove it to her.

I licked my lips, feeling a sly smirk creep up on my face like second-nature. I slowly sidled over to her, closer and closer... Step after step... Closer, closer. Casey backed up, a worried (and somewhat panicked) look on her face... Why is she doing that? It's not like I'm going to hurt her or anything!

I just want to make her a little uncomfortable. Just a little. Like she makes me all the time. All the time.

Casey's back hit the wall. She groaned in pain. I frowned, still advancing upon her... Not exactly pinning her to the wall, but not giving her much space to roam free either. Can't make things too easy for her, you know...

And then I leaned in a bit too close to her (per usual). I could feel my breath against her face, and she closed her eyes involuntarily. "No _blood_ relation... Just like you and me," I whispered in a low, husky voice. Casey's eyes shot wide open, and she shuddered, remembering just how little clothing she was wearing (or maybe because I had freaked her out)... Not that I minded.

Then she noticed how close we were standing... And how I was looking at her like she was a full dessert plate. Not that that would be hard to see... Casey pushed me away lightly, looking rather nervous. Obviously, she was afraid of touching my chest... Aww, that's so cute. Sweet, innocent little Casey.

I wanna dirty her up.

Please, tell me I did not just think that.

D, man, you did. Get a grip.

"Fine. Mom's got her number downstairs... Just get _out_ so I can get ready already!" Casey mumbled, frustrated and flustered. I was a bit... distracted... studying the drops of water on her eyelashes, so she had to push me a little before I got the hint and left.

What I wouldn't kill to be back in that room, watching her get ready. But I have to ask her cousin out, so I'm kind of booked... Hmm, where's that sheet of numbers that Nora had? Oh, here it is, by the phone! Great... Vicky, Vicky, Vicky...

Okay, I'm dialing the numbers... And it's ringing! Yes! Come on, baby, answer me! "Hello?" Aunt Fiona. Bingo.

I felt myself grinning. "Hey, Auntie Fi, it's Derek... Can I talk to Vicky?" I asked smoothly, turning up the charm. Aunt Fiona sighed, obviously passing the phone to Vicky, who giggled. Greeat.

"Hey, Derek... What's up?" Victoria said seductively, knowing exactly how she sounded. She knows she's a siren. It's a wonder she isn't surprised. It's been months since the wedding.

And I haven't called. It's bad for my image, you know.

"Vicky, Vicky, Vicky... Baby..." I began charmingly. She cut me off with a scoff.

"It's **Victoria**. Vicky is icky," She corrected, sounding rather annoyed. Oh well... I've gotten girls who've been annoyed with me before. Just you watch. She'll be eating out of my hand by the time I'm done with her...

"Yeah, yeah... Whatever. So, anyways... My buddy Sam and his girl are dragging me along on a date with them, and Sam's worried that I'll steal his girl or something... so he asked me to invite someone. Anyways, I thought and I thought, and your name came to mind... So, I was wondering, would you want to go with me, babe?" I inquired flirtatiously, curling the phone cord around my finger. I was pacing, but I wasn't nervous.

I knew she was going to say yes. Hello, I'm Derek Venturi! Nobody says no to Derek.

Nobody.

Except Casey, but I'm not supposed to be thinking about her right now.

Especially as I'm going to be making out with her cousin in an hour or two.

"Yeah, sure! Where?" Victoria chirped brightly.

Excited, isn't she? I rattled off the address of the only movie theater in town and told her to meet me there at seven. Okay, I was kinda on autopilot there. Whatever.

"Yeah, okay. Bye, Vicky!" I mumbled, hanging up just as she started to respond. Great. Now I have to get ready. Bet Casey's still in the bathroom. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to barge in. And if she's naked, well, that's too damn bad.

Or too good, really.

Hmm, I think I should put my green t-shirt on over this one (I'm still wearing the black button-up). Leave a few buttons of the top unbuttoned. Yeah, that's good. My jeans are good. Tight enough, but still loose. Torn. That's good. Cologne... Where did I put that stuff? Okay, here it is... But I'm going to have to go into the bathroom to do my hair... Period.

Now, where are my shoes? You know, my favorite pair... The casual ones that are all nice and broken in... Okay, cool, found them. Under my bed, but still...

Ah, now it's time to drop in on Casey... I'm going to like this. I can tell. I strode into the bathroom quietly, slipping through a teeny crack in the door noiselessly. I just loved surprising Casey. It's okay. She's putting on make-up. In just a bra and a miniskirt.

God is so cruel.

We're related? I mean... No one that hot can be in my family. It's like illegal.

You know, I never pictured her as a red lace kind of girl... She, she can't... Right? I mean, just because Dad and Nora left her for the weekend doesn't mean... It... It can't, right? She can't plan on, on... Ugh. It's so horrible I can't even say it.

She's not going to get lucky tonight.

If I can help it, and, so help me, I will be!

I will be that annoying, ever-present thorn in her side for the duration of the date. I will spoil every ounce of "fun" she has with that punk. Period.

Unless it's with me... I totally wouldn't be against hitting that.

Okay, that makes even me cringe. She'd slap me silly if I...

I should sneak up behind her now. Yeah, Dere, that would be smart. Casey was dancing and singing to herself, brushing the blush across her cheeks. Not that she needed it. Listen to me. I must be going mental. I think she's pretty without make-up.

It's lunacy, I say!

"_She's got a hot date and she's already late 'cause she's pulling up her stockings too slow... And she don't care if he gives a care at all. And everybody's talking about the new girl in town 'cause she's been turning the heads on the street. It's 'cause her mom don't care and her dad don't care at all. It's lethal (lethal) lip gloss (lip gloss), and she's putting it on to the max... It's lethal (lethal) lip gloss (lip gloss)... Well, come on, boys, you just got to chillax..._" Casey hummed, applying lip gloss brightly.

I wrapped an arm around her waist suddenly, pulling her against me. I cleared her hair away with one hand, resting my face on her shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against her skin, resting my lips against her shoulder... Right next to her bra strap. Like I was almost kissing her or something.

Oh, wait... I forgot. I've already done that. Silly me.

"Never pictured you as a red lace kind of girl, Case..."

Casey jumped about a foot in the air, letting out an unearthly shriek. Then she elbowed me HARD in the stomach. I rocketed backwards, clutching my injured stomach, but then I noticed something. Casey's back... Was kind of red and swelling a little. Like she was bruising.

Crap. Did I do that? I mean, I didn't mean to or anything!

I carefully approached her, gently placing a light hand on her back, the very spot where the bruise was blooming. I pressed down upon it carefully, noting the grimace that crossed her face. Immediately, I stopped pressing down on it. It looks painful.

Oddly enough, she wasn't shoving me away or going psychotic on me. Which is very chill, and very not Casey.

"I'm sorry," I replied honestly. Casey rolled her eyes in the mirror, turning to face me, leaning boldly against the sink. She looks so hot! No, seriously, I want to... Well, you know what I want to do... It doesn't take a rocket scientist, after all...

"You've **said** that already," Casey retorted a bit snappily, hands on her hips. Such a toned stomach... She's right. She always is.

Ignoring her for the moment (it was so hard, but really, it was the better thing to do in the situation), I went up to the mirror, getting my hair gel out of the cabinet. I unscrewed the cap and began to fix my hair. I about had a coronary when Casey bumped my hip (yeah, like Seventies-The-Bump-Style)... Of course, it was only because she wanted some extra room to do her make-up, but still... Doesn't change the fact that I want to jump her!

Man, she's in the room... Save thoughts like that for when it's just you... All alone.

Apparently Casey was feeling playful, as she snickered and ruffled my hair, effectively messing it up. I scowled darkly at her, patting my hair self-consciously. Casey laughed at me, mumbling a constant stream of sarcastic comments. Eventually (damnit!) she put on a shirt... That low-cut red one, you know? Her hair's down... She looks great. I mean that.

Anyways, we headed out. I didn't compliment her. I probably should've, but I didn't. We were also meeting Sam at the theater... We didn't talk much on the way there, really... Mostly yes and no stuff. Nothing earth-shattering. It was sort of, well, awkward. Then again, what isn't awkward with me and Casey?

No, seriously... Tell me. I mean, that kiss, for instance. Perfect opportunity to bring it up. But did I? No, of course not. It wasn't a very long walk anyways, maybe ten minutes...

Vicky and Sammy were already there when we arrived. Jeez, Vicky REALLY looks like Casey. How did I miss that? Seriously. They look like sisters!

Not that I would do Casey's sister... Ew, especially not Lizzie, her real sister. I meant, like if she had an older one... You know, one less resistant. I wouldn't. Really. I've seen TV! I know how wrong that is.

Not that dating her cousin is much better.

But I'm working on it. Really. I am.

Vicky raised an eyebrow when I arrived with Casey... like she knew. Well, gee, Derek, you did say that Sam was worried about you stealing his girl, and that girl just happens to be your stepsister. You do the math. Though, really, Sammy should be worried about me stealing his girl.

Especially with the way she's been looking at me lately... And the close proximity in which we live. When I'm done with her, she won't have a thought to spare on Sam.

Okay, I'm an evil genius.

I watched with annoyance as Casey greeted her oh-so loving boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek. Then I made sure she was watching and frenched Victoria hello. Casey's groan was more music to my ears than Victoria's moan. I think that's a bad sign. I broke the kiss, smirking, especially when I saw Victoria's smile. Then, just because I had to push things a little further than good old angel Sammy, who was holding hands with Casey (doesn't that just make you want to vomit?), I wrapped an arm around Victoria's waist.

We walked up to the ticket stand and picked a movie. I paid for myself and Victoria, turning to face an expectant look on Casey's face. She crossed her arms over her chest, and finally, I broke down and bought her the ticket. Sam blinked in surprise and Victoria frowned. Casey gestured for me to buy for Sam. I snorted, rolling my eyes.

"I said I'd pay for you, Casey. I _never_ said anything about paying for Sam," I retorted coolly. Casey rolled her eyes, and Sam gave me a wary, confused look before paying for himself. That being done, we walked inside the theater, heading for the concession stand.

I bought myself a jumbo-size popcorn and a large soda. Victoria, the skinny thing, only bought a pack of gum, saying that she would just have a few bites of my popcorn. Anorexic little moocher. Casey wanted some cotton candy (a lot of it), and I couldn't refuse her... It's sweet, just like she is.

Man, listen to me, I sound like some loony boybander.

Oh, but boybanders get girls... Still, not my thing.

Then we headed into the theater. Sam and Casey went in first, and I made sure to snag the seat on Casey's other side (the left)... That way I could watch her easier. And who knows when it might come in handy? It will, trust me.

Frankly, the movie we were watching sucked the bag. Seriously, it was the worst movie I've ever seen. Some sappy romantic crap. Of course, it was dark in the theater... So I kind of slipped my arms around both Vicky and Casey... Let me tell you, it is impossible to get popcorn! I have to play bobbing for popcorn practically. Anyways, Casey thinks it's Sam's arm around her. But it's not.

I mean, really... The fingers are going in the wrong way for it to be his. I'm in a very good place right now. Sandwiched between two gorgeous girls... Casey's absentmindedly rubbing her cheek against my hand and playing with my fingers. It's nice.

And Vicky... You really don't want me to get into what she's trying to do. Let's just say I'm getting the vibe that she's a little less... pristine... than her cousin.

I have to be careful about staring at Casey, though. Victoria's gonna get suspicious (and rightly, too!). Cool, Derek. Cool.

Unfortunately for me, about halfway through the movie, Sam did that corny yawn thing. You know, where you pretend to yawn, stretch, and then, somehow, suddenly the arm winds up around the shoulder. There's an aww moment and then you cuddle... You know?

Personally, I don't use that move. 'Cause it's frickin' lame. Lame. I'm not lame. And, to be frank, it's a bit too wussy for me. I like to make my moves boldly and openly. Not hiding behind some excuse.

Unlike Sam the Angel-boy over there. Man...

He needs to grow a pair.

Honestly.

Anyways, so when his arm was supposed to get around Casey's neck... Well, you can guess what happened, right? Yeah... My arm was kind of... there. And Sam looked over at me, eyes wide, looking betrayed or something. Not betrayed... I mean, it's not like I'm fooling around with her in his bedroom or anything. I was pretending to actually watch the retarded movie by then, so Sam's cry of alarm rather irritated me.

"Man, what the _hell_! What is your **arm** doing around my girlfriend?" Sam snapped a bit too loudly. Uh oh. Wow, man, I only think all of Canada heard you. Seriously, people are booing and hissing him. Yeah, Sam, golden boy. Remind me how I'm friends with such a virgin? He is such a fricking pansy.

Victoria glanced over at me, frowning. Yeah, whatever Vicky. I'll get to you later. Sheesh.

Even in the darkness, I could make out Casey's blush, lit up by the flashing screen. She bit her lip, immediately dropping her hand and jerking her head away from my fingers. She looked to Sam, guilt and embarrassment written all over her face. Sam was angry, for once. So, just to piss him off and rile him up a little more, I caressed the side of Casey's face. To her credit, she at least tried to turn away.

But Sam was just a bit pissed. Come to think of it, Casey probably was too. Oh well. That's their problem, not mine. However, I forced myself to plaster a clueless look on my face, as if I was actually innocent. Hah. That's a good one. Me, innocent. I'm laughing my ass off inside.

"Oh, I do? Oops," I mumbled distractedly. Sam rolled his eyes, physically pushing my arm off of Casey. Wow. He's really growing. Violence so isn't his forte. Must be all that tofu Casey's been feeding him. Men are not made of tofu. Meat. I'm telling you.

I don't think Sam is a red-blooded man. He's not even a boy really. I think his blood's bluuue. He's such a pansy with his cornflower curls and cluelessly wide blue eyes. You just want to smack him. Oh, and that stupid ski-cap he always wears. So friggin' annoying! So annoying.

Victoria rolled her eyes and pulled me up, muttering an excuse over her shoulder. "We're going to get more popcorn!" She chirped brightly, pulling me out of the theater by the collar. She has this really weird talent of being able to say anything and still sound bored and unsatisfied.

Great. Now I can't watch Casey... and that rat, Sam. They could be doing anything right now!

No... Casey's pure, and sweet, and innocent... And Sam is not me. Actually, if I were Sam, I would've been frenching her there. He doesn't have the stones.

What do I have to worry about? Nothing. Yeah... Just keep telling yourself that, D.

Victoria woke me out of my thoughts by snapping her fingers, popping her gum. Great, another annoying habit. I looked to her for an explanation. She rolled her eyes disinterestedly. "It was getting a little stuffy in there... Let's leave those lovebirds alone... so _we_ can be alone, okay, Derek?" Victoria drawled flirtatiously, putting her finger to my lips.

Who was I to refuse that?

She proceeded to explain that she had once worked in a movie theater. She told me that all AMC theaters, despite having different amounts of theaters in them, were built and organized along the same lines. Which they were, pretty much. The main theaters and concession stand was along the center... Always the biggest and most crowded. There were usually theaters to the left and the right, though their concession stands were rarely ever open. There were theaters to the left and right of these concession stands... And bathrooms scattered about, generally down the hallways and off to the corner.

Anyways, she told me about something you never really notice in the theaters... You know, how when you walk in and they take your tickets? If you look up, you see this sort of railing... To a balcony. There's movie posters and crap up there... But never any people. Anyways... That's where you go if you run a projector. Victoria knows because she used to run the projector.

She knows where the stairs are too. So she's taking me up there. You would think you'd have to have a key or something, right? Well... You don't. Most people at the movies are in a hurry to get to the movie... No one ever explores.

Except us, that is.

I suspect it's less of an exploring thing and more of a she-wants-to-make-out-with-me-thing. Not that I mind... in the slightest.

We went up the balcony... though we had to be really sneaky about it. We went into one of the projection rooms. It just happened to be the one with Casey and Sammy in it. And guess what they were doing?

Yeah, my innocent little Casey was kissing that hobo. No, not kissing. Making out. Sucking face. It was disgusting. Casey and Sam. Ew.

Victoria, of course, thought this was the sweetest thing ever. So, naturally, she had to point it out. As if I wasn't already staring, gaping, being sick, and wishing I was Sam. "Aww, look... Little Casey's having her first kiss," She muttered sarcastically.

I scowled and crushed her lips against mine in a kiss. I just snapped. This whole... thing... with Casey was just leaving me **so** sexually frustrated. I just want to make out with her and get the whole damn thing over with already. I don't like this whole moving slow concept. It sucks. I want to just do it and be done with it!

But she hates me, so I have to work for it... Buy her trust. Blah, blah, blah. All that junk I hate doing. I just want to get right down to the chase!

So I kissed Victoria hard and thought about all this. I accidentally hit the projector, which projected the movie off to the side. Victoria separated herself from my lips, grinning, and reset the projector. There were a few angry people yelling about it. Whatever.

Victoria approached me again... so close. She fingered the unbuttoned top of my shirt, licking her lips. "So, what were we doing before we were interrupted?" She whispered seductively, slamming me up against the wall, pressing her body against mine.

"This." I kissed her again. Hard, passionately. If I closed my eyes... it was easy to imagine that she was someone else...

No! Don't ruin this, Derek. Not by thinking about Casey! I forced the thoughts of Casey out of my mind, concentrating on kissing Victoria.

I felt her tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, and I helped her pull it off. Our lips separated for only a second, and my eyes barely opened. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to me. My other arm slid up to tangle in her long hair, playing with it absentmindedly. My eyes fluttered open and I saw her fingers hurrying to undo my shirt. I swear, I have never seen someone unbutton a shirt so fast... But a lot of it was already unbuttoned...

Anyways, Victoria smirked, breaking the kiss for a minute as she shrugged out of her jacket and ripped her shirt off. I shrugged my shirt off, and she ran her hands over my chest, relishing the feeling as she leaned in, twining her leg around mine. I kissed her again, desperately. She bit my lip once. I tasted blood... irony. No, not irony, iron-y. But I didn't care.

Lust was clouding my already vacant mind, and all I could think about was...

Well, I think that's obvious.

She threw her arms around my neck, hanging on me. One of my arms was draped around her waist, the other sliding up her leg and up her skirt. Such smooth skin... My eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy. My hand slipped down her waist, fumbling with the zipper of her skirt. I felt her smile against my lips as she ran a hand through my hair. I smiled back.

But then a song started playing in the movie. At first I put it out of my mind, or, really, I tried. But they say that when you don't have one sense, the others become more effective. I had closed my eyes, so I couldn't help but focus on the words... Clear as day that night.

_You said to meet you on the flipside, baby... I'd love to, I'd **love** to._

_You promised things would be different, **maybe** I'll believe you, honey, I'll believe you... _

_You say you're ready for commitment, oh **my**, there you go with your wandering eye... _

_You leave me, regret it, and you come crawling back. I tell you I hate you, but I still let you in... _

_You say old **dogs** can't learn new tricks._

And I know it sounds really stupid, but I realized something. From listening to a song. I know, what am I, on Instant Star? Please, tell me I did not just make that analogy. I blame Casey for grabbing the remote and making me watch her girly shows.

You see... That's the problem. I feel guilty and ashamed. Seeing as I have no shame, I never feel guilty. So this is freaking me out just a tad. Okay, a lot!

I don't know what it is... I guess I feel like the guy with the wandering eye. Okay, now this is seriously pathetic. I just rhymed! Which makes me feel like an old dog... and, well... I am a dog! Not old... but a dog.

I mean, I know I'm a bit... Promiscuous, you could say... But... Now I feel bad about it... For being the guy I am. It's so unnatural.

And you know what it is?

It's Casey.

I think this could be a bit more serious than I first thought.

With Vicky's hands on my belt buckle, I broke the kiss, panting. I looked at her with wide, open eyes and I knew. I knew I couldn't do it. Haha, punny. But I couldn't. I pushed Vicky away, groaning inwardly. Vicky frowned, confused. I sighed, not quite knowing how to explain this to her.

What do I say? Sorry, Vicky, but I'm really digging your cousin lately? Please, that is such an asshole thing to do. And I realize that I **am** an asshole, but seriously... Even I'm not that cold. Especially if I was making out with her like five minutes ago.

"I can't do this..." I muttered, frowning and biting my lip. Vicky gaped at me, surveying me in surprise. Guess she's never been turned down before. Has she done this before? I mean, if _I_ have...

She got the hint when I picked up my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. Vicky snorted, crossing her arms over her chest and sneering at me, just like she'd done to Casey... Casey.

"Oh, so you choose **now** to be a prude, Derek? Last time _you_ were coming on to me," Victoria hissed, approaching me angrily, hands on her hips. In just a black, lacy bra (kinda like Casey's!) and an unzipped miniskirt. Maybe I have more self-control than I thought...

I know what you're thinking, okay? And you're wrong.

I haven't had sex with Victoria. She's like my cousin, and I just saw her at the wedding. I'm not that trampy. Now, her, on the other hand... I don't know.

Okay, that was a little mean. I mean, like you're one to talk, manwhore.

Oh, shut up... I'm already pissed enough that I didn't nail her, and I'm getting nowhere fast with Casey! You think I'm having fun here? Taking four showers in 36 hours is NOT my idea of fun. It barely helps relax me. Barely.

'Cause I can't stop thinking of the stupid girl! Augh!

I sighed, picking up the button up and putting it on. My leather jacket was in the theater. I forced myself to look at Victoria. "It's not _you_, trust me," I muttered, cursing my stupid guilty brain. Jeez, great time to grow a conscience!

Maybe this is why Sammy's such a wuss.

Because he has morals and scruples and other such worthless things.

Damn him. I am not going to become Sam. I am not going to be some throw-pillow.

I am going to make moves and take stands! Not pansy around and wait for the crap to happen to me! I make things happen! I am aggressive and active, not passive.

Victoria looked at me expectantly, picking up her shirt. She looks GOOD. I just want to... But I can't.

You'd do Casey, though, wouldn't you?

Yes, well... Damnit! This is too... CRAZY. I just want to rip my hair out.

"Look, it's just... I like someone else... And I'm sorry that I... I'm sorry. You're hot and... _great_ and all... But I feel bad kissing you. I mean, I actually feel _guilty_, and that's something **completely** new to me. Maybe a few weeks ago, but... not now. I'm kind of hoping I'll get over it in the future, and... when I do, I'll call you up, okay?" I explained nervously, feeling awkward.

An understanding look crossed Vicky's face. Note... I said understanding. Not happy or even not a glare. She was obviously pissed. Not that I could blame her. I did kind of lead her on, after all. She shot me a disgusted look, slipping into her shirt, zipping up her skirt, putting on her jacket, and then, finally, patting down her hair. She looked at me resolutely and wiped the lipstick off my mouth.

Needless to say, both of us returned to the theater very unhappy campers. Victoria didn't look or speak to me for the duration of the movie. Not that I expected anything less... I'd dealt with pissed girls before.

And with Casey in the house, it's becoming an everyday phenomenon.

Speaking of Casey, she was no longer smooching my best friend. In fact, she shot me a curious look. I felt flattered. Maybe I am getting somewhere.

After that, time just flew by, and before I knew it... The movie was over.

Victoria walked out of the theater first, frostily. Her mom was already there, so she got in without even another word, and Aunt Fiona drove off without saying a thing to Casey, who looked rather offended. Can't blame her.

I'm sorta offended too. I mean, I did their wedding video, and Casey practically organized the whole deal. And nothing. I asked her daughter out, and still, nothing. Rude, much?

Guess Vicky gets that ice bitch thing from her mom then... Poor Nora.

Having to grow up with her.

Not even a hello. Ugh. I just hate people like that...

Ooh, and there's Sammy's mom. Great. No more Sammy. Aww, he kissed Casey goodbye... On the cheek.

How fricking sweet.

If Casey was my girlfriend, I wouldn't be able keep my hands off her. I think I've already proved that.

I'd have problems keeping it secret... but I'd deal. I always do, after all.

Sam looked to me for reassurance, the dumbass. I want your girlfriend, man. Yeah, you can trrust me. With a capital T.

I patted him on the shoulder... In a manly way. "Relax, Sammy, I'll walk her home... After all, what kind of stepbrother would I be if I let my stepsister get raped?" I promised with a grin. Casey flinched at the mention of the word "rape", and Sam looked a bit uneasy but left with his mom nonetheless. Of course, we live at the same house, so how could I not walk her home?

I wouldn't let any thugs get her... Now... Me on the other hand?

I don't know. I just can't make any promises.

I grinned wickedly, holding my arm out for her to take it. Like a proper gentleman would. Except I'm no gentleman. I'm so far from it that it's not funny... Casey merely stared at it warily for a second, as if she were hallucinating, before hesitantly linking her arm through mine.

I straightened up, puffing my chest out with pride, and brightening immediately. We started off for home when Casey smirked at me... Yes, CASEY smirked.

I know! I'm rubbing off on her! I'm so proud and happy... But, seriously, what's she so happy about?

"So, Derek, did _someone_ strike out with Vicky?" Casey questioned smugly, grinning over at me. Oh... That's what she's so happy about. Damn her.

If it weren't for her, we both would've been happy. I shook my head, glaring at Casey, who rolled her eyes.

Girl, if you only knew.

Of course, if you knew, you'd be disgusted.

I mean, I'm... me. And your stepbrother. And you're dating my best friend. And she's your cousin.

But, damn it, I did it for you. Or, should I say didn't? Yes... I didn't do it for you.

Because, damn it, you make me feel...

_Something_.

Loren ;

Hope you liked it. Review please!

One thing to leave you with, though... If Derek doesn't play the guitar, then why does he have a Fender amp in his room?


	6. Into the Morning

Actually, this chapter's a lot shorter... But I wrote it in like two days, so it's pretty good... Still 8ish pages... Oddly enough, I was getting tired when Casey was writing about falling asleep. Talking, I mean. See, now I'm losing it. Math final in a couple hours, I think... Ugh. Kill me now. I haven't studied. I am so screwed. I don't own LWD. I mean, hello, don't even have our own category yet. Sigh.

Okay, the French might be off... And I mean, I'm making a blatant reference to the Libelles, so I've really lost it (We have a paper due on the French Rev today. Yeah. Yikes. I finished, though... Half lost my mind, but still). Oh, and on a happy note, I rented Cruel Intentions. ;) Oh, all the pop culture references? Don't own any of those things... Well, I have copies of Anna K. and Moulin Rouge... Oh, and "tolchok" means to hit... in Nadsat.

* * *

"She's going to bed, not on a date."

* * *

Derek didn't answer my question... I can't blame him. I mean, it must be embarrassing. Whatever happened with them. I guess they had a fight or something... Which is completely strange, of course, as she was coming on to him like jam on bread. Did that make any sense?

I don't think Derek's the type who would turn down a girl like Cousin Vicky. Derek wouldn't turn down any pretty girl. So it must be something with Vicky. Oh, good! That means she's more moral than I thought... Derek probably tried to get further with her than she was comfortable with... Go Vicky! I have a newfound respect for my cousin.

Derek looked over to me... Where we always this close? I don't like it when he gets this close to me... It sort of, okay, so it totally, completely, utterly FREAKS me out. Especially if he's looking at me the way he is now, which is, I don't know, sort of hard to explain. It's kind of angry, kind of desperate... Frustrated, yeah, that's the word! It's the exact same look in his eyes he had when we... you know.

Please tell me he's not going to try for that again. Please, God, I am begging you!

"Oh, screw it!" Derek snapped, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and pulling me with him. Why did I link arms with this moron again? Why is he stopping? He's going to try... to do it... again. Isn't he? I gulped nervously. "I _kissed_ you. You can't honestly tell me we're not going to talk about that!"

Uh, more like I wish we're not going to talk about that... But wishes don't come true. Why does he want to talk about it anyways? It's not like it lasted more than a second... I have a boyfriend, and, um, he has... pretty much the entire female population minus Mom, Lizzie, his grandmother, and me... There was no licking, no tongue; it was just a brush... An accident. Does he have a problem with that? I sighed. "It was _nothing_. Just an accidental brush of the lips. It could've happened to... to **anyone**!" I declared boldly, a bit louder than intended.

Wow... I didn't know I felt that strongly about it.

And, judging by the look on Derek's face, he didn't either. An unreadable look crossed his face. His brow was furrowed, lips pursed, eyes squinting. He seemed very far off and inaccessible. "It's not the first time something like that's happened," He muttered distractedly.

Oh, no... You did not just point that out, Derek! Of course... Only you would bring up something as low as that. I mean, it is a valid point, but... What am I supposed to say in response to that? Please, someone tell me, I'd love to know!

I cleared my throat nervously. "Just so we're clear... Why did you, um, kiss me?" I mumbled, biting my lip worriedly. I swear, Derek turned about twelve shades paler. Not that I can blame him... This whole thing has got me feeling a little queasy myself... Okay, a lot queasy.

The butterflies in my stomach are having a field day with me and I'm going to throw up. I'm even having a little trouble breathing... It's worse than I thought! Is this, is this what it feels like to have a panic attack? Because it sure feels like it.

Okay, Casey, breathe. In, out, in, out... Exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale... You can do this.

Derek, of course, said nothing. Not one word. He started walking again, and I had no choice but to follow. He wasn't even looking at me... which, frankly, is really strange, considering how forward he's been lately. No, not forward. He's just hitting on you to piss you off... Not because he means it! And don't you think any different!

"Why didn't you pull away?" Derek retorted finally, turning to look at me. I gulped nervously. Why didn't you pull away, Casey? Come on, think...

Um, hello... It's sort of obvious, Casey. Not like you had any choice in the matter

"Because, Derek, I was pinned to the wall!" I argued, annoyed with this vein of conversation. Bleh. He nodded, a weird look in his eyes... Like he was unhappy or something, which is completely ridiculous, of course! Derek shrugged.

"Like I said... It's not the first time, and it won't be the last," He muttered under his breath, looking away. You know what? He didn't answer my question. Jerk. He's nuts if he thinks he can get out of this one.

"Why _have_ you been throwing yourself at me lately, Derek?" I questioned with a smirk, wincing at the cockiness in my tone. I sounded like Derek. Derek cocked an eyebrow, looking at me, surprise registering in his eyes. I put my free hand on my hip.

Then Derek grinned and got all up in my face, as if he was going to kiss me again. "You're _so_ irresistible, Casey," He joked, throwing his arm around my neck and giving me a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek. Ew. I need to be decontaminated from his saliva. Eeew. I'm going to get a disease! Ahhh!

I groaned, wiping the slobber (ew, ew, ew, a thousand times EW) off my face with disdain. I glared at him, and he only smirked cheekily back at me. Punk. "So... What's your favorite book?" Derek asked, hands in his pockets.

Since when do you care, Derek? Why are you even asking? You're acting like you actually want to know your stepsister better... And by know better, I don't mean in the biblical sense, you perverted clown! Yeah, Derek, I know what you're thinking... I can see it from a mile away, perv.

"Anna Karenina. Why?" I answered, feeling curious. Derek nodded, like he had suspected that was my favorite book. What does he know? I mean, really!

Then, grinning widely, he winked (yes, WINKED) at me. "Just wanted to get to _know_ my favorite stepsister a little better is all..." He drawled, looking extremely pleased with himself. Damn him and double entendres... He is the biggest pervert! "Oh, and my favorite book, not that you asked, is..."

Okay, now, this one I know. It's so obvious. "Well, that's just not being fair to Lizzie, now is it?" I rejoined, shaking my head. I paused for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, your favorite book is A Clockwork Orange."

Derek turned to stare at me abruptly, He looked absolutely floored. I smirked at this development. "H-how did you...?" He stuttered, disbelieving.

Please. You make it so obvious. "Well, for one thing, we have the video version, the soundtrack, you own two copies of the book... The British and American editions. And lastly, you threatened to "tolchok" Edwin last week. Aside from that, you can identify with Alex because you, also, are a barbaric pig," I pointed out, stacking my facts up one by one.

Derek's eyes darkened. "Last time I checked, I didn't go about beating and raping people," He snapped icily. Hmm, I must've struck a nerve. How... rare. Usually it's him striking my nerves... Progress, Casey. I fixed him with a "yeah, right" look. We both remembered what had happened in the hallway... before, well... you know.

"Favorite movie?" He inquired nonchalantly, as if he wasn't ready to kill about a minute ago. He was still stiff with repressed rage. Derek, learn to control your emotions.

I mulled it over for a minute. I had never been good about movies. Hmm...

"Moulin Rouge." Derek rolled his eyes.

"Why am I not surprised?" He muttered, smirking. "But hey, at least it's not The Notebook..." He shuddered, as if he had some memory of some stupid girl taking him to the movie. That is a good movie, though... Barbarians like him just can't appreciate it.

Moulin Rouge was a good movie. It had everything... Singing, dancing, love, death, jealousy, good music, color, bright lights, diamonds, Ewan McGregor... Okay, Casey, don't drool. Derek will assume you're drooling over him. Conceited blowhole.

"Yours?" I posed tentatively. Derek's lips curved into the all-too familiar smirk. He looked at me, eyes heavy-lidded, openly roving over my body. He obviously liked what he saw. Or he's just doing that to freak me out... make me lose my cool... Though I couldn't blame him if he did... Then he licked his lips, eyes darker than usual and mischievous.

He leaned in close and whispered it in my ear. I could feel his breath on my skin, his lips only a few millimeters from my earlobe. It made me nervous. The butterflies once again rose up in my stomach. Great, just what I need.

"Cruel Intentions," He uttered hoarsely. I could smell his cologne. Not too shabby, Derek. Then, for some reason, he cleared his throat nervously and backed up. I just nodded obliviously.

"Favorite TV show?" I solicited politely. Derek shrugged, clearly having no idea. I figured it was one of three: sports, porn, or comedy. Wait, this is Derek we're talking about... Duh, the porn.

I rolled my eyes in response to his lack of an answer. I wanted an answer, but I got a question. "Yours?"

That's easy. "Strange Days at Blake Holsey High," I stated quickly. Too bad it's off the air. That one guy... Michael-something-or-other... the one who played Lucas? He was sort of hot... I bet he'd look better without the glasses.

Derek nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, that redhead was hot," He remarked coolly, detached. Can you think about anything besides hot girls, Derek?

Of course not... Thinking requires a brain, something Derek clearly doesn't possess.

"Favorite color?" He asked quickly, glancing over at me. I think he knows the answer to my question.

"Pink." Yeah, maybe it was a little obvious. I didn't return the question, so Derek scowled.

"Mine's green, in case you were wondering," He growled, sounding slightly irritated. Why was he irritated? He has no reason to be. But that's Derek for you... The boy PMSes worse than me! Not that I PMS, of course... I'm too sweet for such things.

We continued on in a somewhat awkward silence for the majority of the walk, that is, until Derek grabbed my arm. "What do you want to do?" He demanded in, surprisingly, a somewhat nice tone. I shrugged.

"I don't know... Order take-out, watch some movies, do homework..." I responded dully. Normal stuff. I was feeling like Chinese. Mm, Chinese. Derek nodded, and we continued walking.

"So, how about I pick a movie, and then you pick a movie. That sound okay?" Derek suggested kindly. Man, I forgot how cold it is here... And I didn't bring my jacket... I should've brought it. I sighed, shivering. Somehow, Derek noticed...

And this is the kicker, the really unbelievable part! He took off his own jacket and helped me into it... Even zipped it up and everything, which is uncharacteristically nice of him. It's so warm, and it smells like Derek. Was the walk home always this long?

I turned to look at Derek, who looked sort of cold and miserable... Naturally, I felt horribly guilty. He'd given me his coat after all... for some bizarre reason. "Thanks... for giving me your jacket. Is there anything I can do for you?" I replied gratefully.

Derek smirked despite the cold, raising his eyebrows and holding out his arms expectantly. What does he have in mind? Stupid, dumb, naïve, idiotic Casey. I can't believe I said anything... I offered. Maybe Derek's not the only one changing here...

He nodded, licking his lips as if he was hungry. Let me tell you, he wasn't hungry for _food_. "Come over here and _warm_ me up..." His eyes narrowed, as did mine, though only one of us narrowed them from hostility (that would be me). That was no request. It was a direct order, a command, if you will. Not that I had to follow it or anything... but there would surely be consequences if I didn't.

So, dutifully, I headed straight for Derek's arms, trying my best to wrap myself around him for warmth. Even weirder, Derek smiled at me, relaxing a little. I didn't like the feeling of his arms around me, especially since I was with Sam.

We arrived at home after some of what could quite possibly be classified as the longest minutes of my life. I ordered Chinese while Derek wandered around the house, doing miscellaneous things. It was steamed rice and teriaki shrimp with egg drop soup for me, fried rice and steak for Derek. Oh, he was going around, doing party-prep things... You know, moving and securing the valuables, cleaning, picking things up... Getting the movies and some sodas... Changing.

This has to be one of the few times I haven't walked in on him lately. Props, Casey. Speaking of which, I needed to change too. So I headed up to my room, just as the bell rang. It must've been the delivery guy. I yelled at Derek to get it and hurriedly changed into a pair of blue sweats and a silky black spaghetti-strap top... I don't wear this top much... so why now?

It cannot be because of Derek. That's ridiculous... And I'm wearing my bra... my push-up bra. Well, I wore it when I was out with Sam too. So it's not like I'm doing this for Derek... UGH! I need to STOP thinking about him and get downstairs...

I raced downstairs, where Derek had already (to his credit), gotten out sodas, plates, silverware, and our food. He smirked, holding two movies in his hand. Cruel Intentions and Moulin Rouge. Naturally. I'm surprised he remembered. We agreed that we would eat/do homework and then watch the movies.

That being said, I started in on my French. Skimming the text, I frowned, forcing myself to reread it for what seemed like the millionth time. It just wasn't connecting in my brain. This is so frustrating! Speaking of frustrating, Derek, who was currently shoveling rice into his mouth like a madman, peered over my shoulder. I hate it when people do that.

It's so distracting! Not to mention that it's Derek doing it, and, knowing Derek, he's bound to get too close. He always does. He gulped down his rice sloppily, smirking. "Ooh, so you're doing _French_," He exclaimed, innuendo clear in his tone. He licked his lips... What is up with that! He's been doing that a lot lately!

I nodded, annoyed, going back to my work. Maybe he'll go away if I ignore him.

Oh, who am I kidding! This is Derek we're talking about here! The Unstoppable Derek Venturi. Fat chance of that happening.

"Veux-tu coucher avec moi ce soir?" A bemused Derek "suggested" flirtatiously in a sing-songy tone. Derek's in French too, though he's not in my class. What can I say? It's Canada after all... French here is as natural as hockey and maple leaves...

So, naturally, I understood what he said perfectly. It's the same as saying: "Wanna sleep with me tonight?" in English. And, to make matters worse, it's in the informal "tu" form. I sort of understand that... After all, I am younger than him, but it's still disrespectful. He still thinks I'm some kind of whore or something! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!

"Non, je ne veux pas coucher avec toi! Je ne suis pas de salope!" I thundered back, turning around abruptly, dropping my French text.

Or, in translation: No, I don't want to sleep with you, you idiot! I'm no whore!

Okay, so maybe I added the idiot in there. ...And coucher really means to lie down. Lie with, I suppose.

It means the same thing, after all.

Derek backed away from me a little, clearly worried, as he should be. This time I smirked.

"Je ne dis pas que tu a été une salope... Mais tu vas coucher avec moi. Je suis irrésistible," Derek drawled cockily, grinning. Predictably, I hit him over the head with a pillow.

You see, here's what he said. It makes him come off as an insufferably cocky jerk, but still... Not that that's something new or anything. Translation: "I didn't say that you were a whore... But you will sleep with me. I'm irresistible."

Well, Derek, if no one else does, I'll always resist you. Always. Grumbling under my breath in French expletives, I returned to my work, frustrated, but more productive. I was getting through the problems until I stopped at one, confused.

According to the piece above, what did the Comte d'Artois say to the Queen after allegedly sleeping with her?

I scanned that piece with a shrewd eye, raking it up and down, left and right... I read it fast, I read it slow. I looked far and wide, but it was never mentioned anywhere. Our French teacher was being a little bête when she assigned this piece. You see, it's sort of, um, how can I put this delicately while still remaining a lady and getting the point across...? Uh, well, I might as well say it. It's French porn. I'm not kidding here... The pictures are blurred and everything. It's college-level material. It even says so on the outside.

And it's very graphic and, uh, explicit. Let me tell you... Reading it was painful.

She must've been completely spacing that day. It was a load of crap anyways. Pure libel here, insulting the poor (well, maybe that's the wrong word) queen's virtue like that!

"Je t'aime." My heart stopped and I jumped. I didn't know Derek was that close. When did he get that close? Immediately, I twisted my head to see him so fast I got whiplash. He did not just said what I thought he'd said. He can't have said what I heard him say... I MUST be hallucinating! That's it, the only logical explanation. Logical.

If _hallucinating's_ logical... then I'm really losing my mind.

Over Derek.

Jaw gaping open wide, eyes bulging half out of my head... Essentially looking like a demented chipmunk. Not that Derek really cared. He didn't even laugh (impressively enough). Oddly out of character for him. "**Quoi**!" I nearly growled, almost grabbing him by the collar. I managed to restrain myself.

Derek, for some reason, rolled his eyes. As if love or like with me was such a stupid thing...

He pointed to the question, poking it several times. "Je t'aime. It's what he told her... I did this yesterday in class," He explained in a tone that, for once, belied no innuendo, only stating facts. Bo-ring. This wasn't Derek. However, I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, sighing and thanking God that he wasn't serious.

After all... Where would that leave us?

I don't want to think about it.

I sighed and wrote down the answer, and minutes later, we sat on the couch, watching Cruel Intentions. Sitting there, watching the movie, I felt myself begin to become nervous. I scooted as far away from Derek as was humanly possible. You see, I realized something.

The entire basis of the movie was these two stepsiblings who hated each other, yet... Yes, you heard me right. Stepsiblings, like Derek and me. And the stepbrother wanted to bang the stepsister, who was a total slut. Not that I don't like Sarah Michelle Gellar or anything... It was a good role for her, I guess. It helped her grow as an actress, and it was a very empowering female role.

But it got me to thinking... And I wondered if Derek was trying to hint something to me. He kept looking over at me too, during the movie, and smirking wickedly. Looking at me sort of like Kathryn looked at Sebastien. I gulped nervously for seemingly the millionth time all night. Is he thinking like: "Gee, get the message, Case?"

Or maybe that's what he wants me to think...

I'm so confused! I can't read signals!

Especially guy signals. Especially Derek "Jerk-One-Minute-Nice-The-Next" Venturi's signals. That is, if he's even signaling at all... I really, really hope he isn't!

Well, if that's what he's intending, to, er, hit on me, he's missed his mark. Though he's been hitting on me for what seems like ages now... I really shouldn't be surprised anymore. I am not submitting to his dubious charms. Eventually, the movie ended satisfactorily (Derek, on the other hand, hated the ending... understandably), and we turned on Moulin Rouge. It wasn't even halfway through the movie when I started to feel sleepy.

So I leaned over, falling a little on Derek. My brain was thought and oxygen starved. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open; they felt like lead weights. I was full, warm, and satisfied. I wasn't thinking clearly. Before I knew it, I had drifted off.

Maybe Derek's Kathryn and I'm Sebastien... Or is it th-

I was awakened some hours later by a gentle shake. "Casey, psst, Casey, wake up!" I blinked, groggily, looking for the source of the familiar-sounding voice, but whoever it was wasn't on the couch with me. Derek was up and wide-awake, turning the TV off. I blinked dully.

I wanna go back to sleep.

With that weak thought in mind, I closed my eyes once again and buried my face into the pillow. Mm, it smells nice... And it's warm...

But I was once again jolted from my sleep roughly, as a voice demanded for me to move. "Casey! Come on... We need to get you to bed." It was a sort of insistent, bossy voice. I don't like bossy people...

I opened an eye warily, not moving. My thoughts were moving sticky-slow like honey, and I was buried in a fog of confusion. The way I'm telling you this makes it sound like I was more awake than I really was, that I had some, remote idea of what I was doing or what was going on, or that I actually remember some of it. I was so tired...

Sleep deprimivation does that to you... Heehee. I made up a word! Sleep depriv-depry-depruis-dep... I can't spell.

"I don' wanna go 'ta bed," I mumbled into the pillow, snuggling into its warmth. Someone...

Derek! Yeah, Derek groaned and picked me up, carrying me like a bride. He grunted a little under my weight. Why's he bein' so nice to me?

"Why you bein' so nice to me, Sebastien?" I muttered thickly, wiggling in his grip. My eyes were open now, but I wasn't really registering what my squinty eyes saw. Derek blinked at me, confused, but instead shrugged, smiling and placing me on my feet at my doorway, gently pushing me in... But I didn't want to go in.

I rejected this violently, turning back to cling to him. I tiredly buried my face in his shoulder, leaning my full weight on him. He smells nice. He groaned again, staggering a bit. "I don' wanna..."

Derek led us to his room slowly. I blinked at him sleepily as he pushed open the door. I shot him a confused look, so he decided to explain. Of course, everything confused me then. "I'm going to change and then put you to bed," He proclaimed authoritatively. I rolled my eyes and Derek smirked.

It didn't register. He picked up some of his clothes, staring at me oddly. "What, Casey, do you want to watch me strip down?" Derek joked amusedly. I looked him over, liking what I saw... He has lots of firm muscles. I debated it for a moment, thinking vaguely. Mm, Derek naked?

Sounds good to me.

Eyes half-lidded, shooting him a somewhat pouty look, I nodded so hard that my vision swam and my head ached. "Yes, **please**!" I chirped brightly. Derek's jaw dropped. He looks so cute when he's surprised and confused. Surpfused. Cool word... He has pretty eyes.

But he recovered, shrugging and throwing his t-shirt off in a blur. Hmm... Nice, toned muscles. Bet they're hard... Teehee. Among other things. Teehee. You made a dirty joke, Case! Sebastien would be so proud. Teehee. Or should I call him Katherinnnn? Heehee. He'd like that, I think... Or not.

Next came his sweats, down and off in a second... Nice legs... Bet he works out. Mmm. Bet he'd work me out. Another one! Ooh, I'm on a roll! Hehe. His boxers are green. Nice, simple color. He likes green... I like him wearing green... Mm, mm, mmm... Good.

Campbell's Chiken Noobdle Soop. Mm, mmm, good. Like Derek. Bet he'd be good... No, make that great. Great! Amazing! Mindblowing! Awesome! Hot! Sweet! Radical! Swell! Ooh, that's a double entend-y what-y thingie... I like those. Hehe.

Derek gave me an expectant look, walking over to me to take me back to my room. I hit his chest in feeble protest. "NO!" I muttered childishly. Ooh, look, my hand's on his chest! I'm touching his chest! And it's so smooth and firm and... hard. Mmm... "I wanna stay with _you_," I drawled, rubbing my hand up and down his chest.

Wonder why he's getting all short of breath? Oh, well... I'd better rub harder! Get the circu-curcle-circumu-ulation... moving? His heart's fast... I'd better do it faster... Hehe... Do it faster! That way it'll sloooow down. Yeah, that'll work.

I should so be a doctor. I'd be better than Marti. So much better.

Just like Derek is than S... What's his name again? I should know, shouldn't I? I mean, I think I was out with him tonight... No, wait, that was Derek too. I guess there is no what's-his-face... Cool.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Casey..." Derek said warily, sounding worried, though for who I couldn't tell.

I pouted even more, frowning up at him, filling my eyes with tears. Derek grimacing, sighing, and walking with me towards... his bed! Yay, I get to...

To do what, exactly? I dunno...

It's a great idea!

I was sure to repeat the sentiment to Derek, who smiled weakly, giving me a weird look. He sighed, sliding back his sheets. I'm so tired... His bed looks nice and warm... And inviting... Just like he...

Does.

Ooh, but I have to change first. Derek got under the sheets. I gestured for him to wait a minute. "I hafta take off my bra," I whispered loudly, unhooking it sloppily underneath my shirt, tossing it haphazardly behind my head. Derek's jaw was wide... His mouth so open... What would it be like to...?

Lost my train of thought there. Ooh, crap! I forgot my sweats... They've gotta go. I took them off, chucking them in his room. Derek's eyes widened and he stared at me, stunned beyond words. I smiled lazily at him, and he relaxed. He's so warm... Like his feet. Man, I'm so co-co-cold. Better warm myself up.

I blindly pressed my lips against Derek's. At first... He didn't do anything... Which made me feel bad. But then he really came around... Opened his mouth to mine, tongue down my throat. Mm, he tastes as good as he looks. "Mmm, _Derek_," I moaned, grinning. This encouraged him.

He wrapped his arms first around my waist, then he got on top of me... Pinning me to the bed. Not a bad place to be, really. His hands moved up and down around my stomach and waist as if he knew every part of me intimately... Not yet, Tiger... Heehee.

I writhed and moaned in ecstasy against him. I enjoyed the feeling of him against me. He's gonna be goood. So this is what it feels like to finally get what you want. Derek feels like this all the time? Sounds nice. I might have to join the club.

His hand crept up to my breast, and I suddenly realized how tired I was and pulled his hand away, kissing each and every one of the fingers, before grabbing him and snuggling up against his hard body. "Sorry, Sebastien, but I'm _so_ tired..." I groaned, collapsing against him. All lines and muscle just as I thought. Fortunately, he was understanding, kissing me once before nuzzling my shoulder.

"Night, Case..."

I closed my eyes and drifted off again. Sleep is good.

Happy dreams of Derek, Casey. Mmm, Derek. He's hot... Derek...

Loren ;

Okay, that last part was hard to write... And she's all over the place 'cause she's supposed to be. The misspellings are intentional. And, if you think that's out-of-character, she was in that sleepy haze where you're really open to suggestion and stupid and stuff... But that doesn't count for the kiss either. ;)

It helps that I'm so tired myself right now... Seriously, I think I hallucinated and saw a couple things... So I'm gonna end it there before I become more delusional than Casey. So, let's see... That leaves you with Casey and Derek in little clothing, sleeping in his bed. (A sane Casey would've chosen her own because she's cleaner) Can you say Cold Shower for Derek?

Lol... Anyways, thanks for all your GREAT reviews. I'm gonna go sleep now, 'mmmkay? Crap, I was gonna say something, but now I don't remember...Isn't Derek a prophet? And a happy one, at that? He's got a lot of small revelations for him along the way... Hehe.


	7. Right Place, Wrong Time

Okay, let's see here... Wow, I'm updating fast! Ahh! Lol... This is my little Christmas present to ya'll. I probably won't be posting again for a while as I haven't updated Chestnuts or Consequences in AGES. Especially Consequences. Sigh.

Anyways, I can tell you that the next chapter's going to be called Bring It On. And it's going to be kinda songfic-ish 'cause they're dancing... And Sammy might show up and Derek'll hit on her friends and they'll be talking about Derek. A lot. Fun stuff like that. And I think the next chapter after that might be called Mr. Obvious. But don't quote me on that. It'll be Derek seeing stupid Sammy and Casey make-out and stuff... Wow!

I've really got this planned out. I'm impressed. And then after that is my favorite chapter... Temporary Insanity... Which is also gonna be sorta songficcy. But a really, really great chapter. ;) Anywho...

* * *

"You know, you give love, you get love."

* * *

Sweet Dreams, Derek...

Mm, that was the best dream ever... Casey frenched me and... We were going to get further... I opened my eyes, feeling oddly warm and happy... Not that kind of happy! I save that for... the shower.

Hey, there's Casey! Wearing a skimpy outfit!

I guess it wasn't a dream... Mm, even better!

I better enjoy this while I can... It's never going to happen again, you know... Me, having Casey in my arms in... practically nothing... in my bed... Pulled flush against me like this... With her lips all swollen and fu-ull. Did I do that?

'Cause if I did, I deserve an award for making her look like a Botticelli. Okay, I've seen that one really corny Molly Ringwald movie with that one "player" who gets all serious in love with her too many times.

I ought to take her hair down. Just reach out and do it!

Dirty.

Fast. Okay, there we go... Her hair's shiny and very soft. She's pretty... And I'm obviously high on something. She's not going to be asleep for much longer. She smells good... Kinda flowery. And who knew she was so warm?

Uh oh... She's moving! She's going to find me here and FLIP. Come on, Derek, face it like a man.

No, no, no... It's okay. She's just snuggling up closer to me. Ah... Okay. I twined an arm around her waist, pulling her still closer to me. I wonder if I could kiss her... She's asleep. She might not even notice.

I mean, she did kiss me last night, right? That has to mean something. I realize she was sort of out of it... But she can't have been that out of it. Right?

Dude, she was calling you Sebastien. Pansy-ass name. Ugh. Sebastien... Which sure as hell ain't your name. If she didn't even know your name, then how do you know she meant it?

We just finished watching Cruel Intentions! She was confused... And I am her stepbrother, you know... I mean, it's not like it came totally out of the blue or she's calling me by another lover's name...

Lovers! Casey doesn't have lovers! Or devotees, minstrels, worshipers, priests... What am I saying? Maybe I'm the one out of it... Maybe I hallucinated the whole thing and am completely reading this wrong...

Or maybe not...

You know...

Her hair looks good all wild and down like this... She should wear it like this more... I remember the day she dressed up as Babe Raider. My eyes bugged out. She was so _hot_. Man, I about lost it there. I mean, I know I said all that crap about it grossing me out, but really, it did make me lose my appetite. For food, that is. Unless I was eating the food off Casey. I wanted her so bad.

Even Edwin and Dad were staring. I remember the panic over Casey "exposing" herself. I mean, those posters I have supposedly objectified women and there she was, objectifying herself. I realize now that was just her dressing the way she wanted to. Something she should **totally** have the right to do. I wish she would dress that way more often. Mmm, mmm, good. She should want to dress that way more often.

Tight clothes, midriff-baring top. I could see her skin, soft. Her abs, man, killer. I practically died there. And not just because I choked on my cereal.

I almost hit Sam when he talked about how she looked. I swear, I had to restrain myself. And I just could not handle all those guys staring at her. So I charged down the hallway. It took everything in me to not slam her against the lockers or drag her off to the janitor's closet... That should've been my first sign, a warning...

But I just wrote it off as momentary lust, temporary insanity. I mean, I see a hot girl, of course I wanna bang her. I'm not gonna lie. And Casey was **so** hot that day. She was on _fire_. I still hated her... Completely. But you can have the best sex with someone you hate. Charged and raw, electric.

Not that I know or anything.

So I told her about the "topless level" of Babe Raider. Which is sort of a myth... If it exists, even Sam hasn't gotten that far. Not that Sam gets very far with girls anyways. They think he's all sweet and innocent. And he was so sensitive.

But he's so _sensitive_ he doesn't do crap. Only men of action do stuff. Only men of action get what we want.

I was kind of frustrated that day, so it made me happy that Casey got all pissed at Perfect Sam. Augh. He makes me sick. I called Sandra that day, you know, about the womens' march. Surprisingly that day, I had a lot of fun. Made out with a bunch of hot feminists who kissed me to prove a point... Not that I really cared. I still don't remember what the point was.

And now, here I am, in bed with the girl, and not doing crap. This is so not me. We definitely have a problem here. Maybe this is a bit more serious than I thought.

I know, you can see the panicked look in my eye. If I bit my nails (ew), I'd be biting them right now... This whole... thing... with Casey has got be all wound up and dissatisfied. I mean, I gave up a perfectly good opportunity last night because I felt guilty! Me, guilty! Me!

And yet... I just can't get last night out of my head... That kiss.

That kiss was killer, and trust me, I know. Somehow, innocent little Casey is a better kisser than pretty Vicky... I don't really get how that's possible.

Oh, uh, how about because you like Casey?

Like Casey? Me, like Casey? Me! What the... I don't! I just... Argh. This is serious.

But I'm not That Guy. I don't feel like this. I can't... It's not me. Guys like Sam feel this way. My passions are... fleeting. Girls piss me off after a week, maybe two at the most. Sandra lasted three.

I just got so damn sick of lying all the time about who I am. Ugh. I mean, I know I'm good... But it really wasn't worth it. By the way, not a pretty break-up. It got really bad. Not the point, though.

The point is that I'm going soft here... Over Casey. This is a new feeling... I mean, I don't want it to be like this, to feel like... however. No, Derek, don't say it! You're not fa... You're not. Not for Casey, your stepsister. Come on, that's ridiculous.

She's your opposite. And sure, she might be super hot, but she doesn't flaunt it... And she's not a loose-morals type. Not to mention that she counters you, keeps you in check. She insults you all the time... For crying out loud, you live together! It would never work.

And, man, even if you tried it... What the hell do you think your parents would think! 'Cause I can tell you right now that they wouldn't be supportive!

And you're assuming, of course, that Casey would actually, for some bizarre reason, condescend to hook up with you. She's got a boyfriend already: your best friend. She's got him totally whipped. Not to mention that her best friend likes you, and yesterday you practically had sex with her cousin. What would that bizarre reason be? Oh, I'll tell you...

She'd have to lose her mind to be with you! You sure as hell aren't her type, and she knows that. She's just not into you, man.

So just stop being such a wuss and get the hell over it. Okay? Build a bridge and climb over it. Forget about it... Okay?

Can you do that for me, Derek?

Jeez... It's become serious. I'm mentally talking to myself about this whole Casey thing.

Man, you already knew it was getting serious when she was in your bed and you weren't...

Okay, that's it!

I have to take a stand here... For mankind! Or just for men...

Just put your hands on her. See how far you get before she wakes up. There, D, it's as simple as that, okay, man? There... Hand on her stomach, sliding up slowly, slowly, slowly... Under her shirt now...

Slowly, slowly, slowly... C'mon... Almost there.

Should I really do this? I mean...

No! Now is not the time to go soft, D!

Her skin's so... smooth and... soft. Better than I ever imagined it would be... She's driving me crazy here.

And suddenly, when my hand was right under her breast... Her eyes opened. I am so screwed. She's gonna massacre me! She blinked lazily... Once, then twice, then three times. Suddenly, her eyes were wide with horror. "Derek! What are you doing in _my_ bed!" Casey screeched, filled with panic.

She almost made me deaf. Almost immediately, she tensed up against me. I was just glad she didn't know where my hand was yet... Because when she did, I was surely a dead man.

I rolled my eyes at her... What did she think had happened last night?

"First of all, _sister_, it's my bed..." I retorted caustically. But then I winced. Sister? What the hell are you thinking calling her sister! She isn't your sister... By blood anyways! And I'm lusting after her...

You just don't lust after your sister. It just ain't right... I mean, do you see me lusting after Marti?

No. The answer to that question is no.

Casey gaped at me, glancing around and realizing that it was, in fact, my room, my bed. Thank you. Unfortunately, she also noticed, a moment later, just how close we were in that tiny bed. Leave it to Casey to kill a moment.

"Okay, so **what** am I doing in your bed! And just _how_ did we wind up so close, anyways!" Casey growled, still worried. Curious, isn't she? Does that mean that she... That she doesn't remember? How can she not remember?

At least she hasn't noticed where my hand is yet... I'm so going to be a dead man. And if I'm a dead man... I can't go to the party and find a hot girlfriend of Casey's to make out with. I bet that would piss her off. Well, it's only right. She is, after all, dating my best friend...

It's payback. I do deserve _something_ after all.

If I could've, I would've shrugged. But there was absolutely no room in the bed. Hehe... That is such an excuse. "This is a small bed," I muttered instead. Casey sort of seemed to buy that. Sort of.

Er, until she noticed that my hand was up her shirt. I mean, it's not like I was moving it around or anything... It was just... there. There.

"What the _hell_ is your hand doing up my shirt, Derek?" Casey hissed through clenched teeth, trying to resist hurting me or something... Resisting her violent urges... See, now she knows how I feel! Except for different reasons...

Now how am I supposed to explain this? Please, tell me! She's gonna kill me! Uh... Come on, man, think fast here!

Um... Uh... What? Huh? Uhh...

"I don't know..."

Real brilliant, Derek. She's really going to believe you on that one. Really.

Hell, even I don't believe you on that one...

Of course you don't! You know the truth!

No duh, D.

"I just woke up a minute ago..." I mumbled nervously, looking down and hoping that she wasn't going to kill me. Casey rolled her eyes, shooting me a disbelieving look. She slowly brought her hand down to grab my arm, pulling my hand out from under her shirt... rather slowly, if I do say so myself.

Now, she wasn't savoring the moment or anything... That would be ridiculously out of character. I could tell because of her iron grip on my wrist. You don't grip someone's wrist that hard if you're liking it, okay? Not unless you're into sadomasochism or you like it rough... And Casey so isn't into either of those, obviously.

"Oh, so you have dreams that result in you perving on your stepsister?" Casey growled irritatedly, putting her hand around my throat. If I had been wearing a shirt, she would've grabbed me around the collar. Frankly, right now I was just worried that she was going to strangle me. Opportunity, motive, means... No one's around... She could say it was an accident or something... Yikes.

I'd better not get on her bad side... Uh, oops. Looks like it's too late for that... I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. Perving on my stepsister? Please, tell me I don't come off like that... Like some Dirty Old Man or something...

"_Please_, Casey. You were all _over_ me last night," I snorted, annoyed. Please tell me I did not just say that... I'm so dead. Though it is the truth... Why did I tell her the truth again? Did I think it was a smart move or something?

'Cause it wasn't. Not in the slightest, dumbass.

Casey's eyes widened in disbelief, her jaw dropping. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You're lying!" She snarled accusingly, pointing a finger at me. Her hand was beginning to exert pressure on my throat. Uh oh. Better nip this in the bud right here.

"No, Case, I'm not... If I recall correctly, and I _always_ do, you said you didn't want to sleep in your room, insisted on watching me strip, and then responded by taking off your sweats... Then you got in the bed with me and made out with me... You're better than Vicky, by the way," I drawled, smirking at the memory. I swear, that kiss will stick with me forever...

That can't be right. Forever? Yeah... Hehe. Riight.

I'm so cracking up over here... Losing it. Going mental. Completely mental... Over Casey "Kiss-My-Ass" McDonald. Her last name is a fast food chain. Come on, do you not see the problem here!

I should be calling her Ronald or something... Making fun of her by telling her to dye her hair red and dress like a clown for Halloween. Honestly!

Casey looked appalled. She shook her head. She didn't believe me. I could see why, of course. I mean, it is coming from me. She shook her head again, pushing me out of the bed. Ouch.

Can you say face-plant? That hurt! And then, of course, she got out of bed, slipped into her sweats and walked over to gloat at me... I really think that did a number on my back. Casey stared down at me... Her bra was still in my room, like I was gonna tell her that...

Casey rolled her eyes at me, offering her hand. You act so smart, but you're really soo dumb, Case. You really think you would've learned my now. I used my superior, manly strength to pull her down. Naturally, she landed on top of me.

Which, don't get me wrong, was completely great and everything, but it completely knocked the wind out of me. Completely. Casey groaned, apparently also winded, and in her least favorite place in the world: on top of me. It's my favorite place, though. Really and truly.

"Oh, so your lips were puffy _before_ you kissed me?" I snapped rather bitterly. Casey's eyes widened and she scrambled off of me, running to the bathroom. She was probably going to check.

This time I didn't follow her.

I just got off of the floor, sighed, and rummaged around in my closet for something to wear. I wanted to look so hot for the party that Casey would be all over me again... Or, uh, since there's no chance of that happening, would _want_ to be all over me. Or... At least want to remember it.

I didn't even go after her when she'd been gone for thirty minutes.

Which was okay, as she returned, in a towel, absolutely drenched. Just the way I like her...

Casey looked at me and sighed. Obviously, she doesn't believe me. "Look, Derek... If I can't remember it, then it didn't happen..." Casey said wearily, both hands over her face. If she doesn't remember it, then it didn't happen?

She honestly believes that crap!

It happened for me!

"But it **did** happen," I stated bluntly, none-too-amused. She can't sweep this under the rug... Make me forget about it.

I refuse.

"It's in your head, not mine. Therefore, it didn't happen... Not for me," Casey said plainly, sounding more than a little annoyed with me. Oh, like she has the right to be annoyed. I'm the one getting blown off here. She ran a hand through her wet hair.

I forced myself to quell my desires. She's not going to make me do this because I'm too busy staring at her. Feminine wiles will not work on me... After all, that's sorta the whole big problem here.

"It may not have "_happened_" for you, Casey, but it sure as hell happened for me. And there's no way I'm pretending that it didn't," I barked back, venom coating my tone, pointing an accusatory finger at her. I can't be this angry. Tone it down a little, Derek. After all, you don't want her to catch on to the real reason why you're upset, now do you?

No, of course not.

Good, Derek. Remember... Be cool.

"It shouldn't have happened anyways, Derek... I don't see why I would _ever_ kiss you. I would have to be **completely** out of my mind to ever kiss someone as cocky, arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic, self-absorbed, rude, and asinine as you," Casey snapped furiously, throwing her hands in the air. I smirked when her towel started to fall down again. Unfortunately, she had fast reflexes and managed to grab it before I saw anything... fun.

Completely out of her mind? Ouch. That one hurt.

Why did it hurt? You said the same thing yourself earlier.

I don't know! It's just... principle, I guess...

And the string of insults at the end? That was a bit redundant. Just a bit. Not to mention rather impolite. Do you see me calling her names? No, of course not!

Why do I like her again? I mean, really? I just can't see... I don't get it, you know?

Because I can think of like ten gazillion reasons why I shouldn't. Right now, off the top of my head.

Number One: She's my stepsister. Which means that things could get very messy, and then I'd be stuck living with her and seeing her at Christmas.

Number Two: She fricking _hates_ me. I mean, she's so not interested it would be laughable if I wasn't so damn distraught about the whole damn thing.

Number Three: She's dating my idiotic best friend, Sammy-boy. Ugh. Such a pansy. I mean, if I had any qualms about stealing my best friend's girl... Which I should, but I don't...

Number Four: Her best friend likes me... I mean, Emily's nice and all, but that could get a bit awkward, don'tcha think?

Number Five: I've kinda made out with her cousin. Her cousin who she hates about as much as me...

Number Six: What happens when I dump her? I mean, then things around here will get so much worse.

Number Seven: I could completely screw up the family dynamic. See, I can't stand thinking about her as a family member, much less a sister!

But, you know, that's human nature for you. We always want that which we cannot have. It's fate, you know?

Fate's a bitch, you know that? I mean, really. I'm going crazy here!

"Funny. You know, you didn't seem to care about that last night, when you were _moaning_ my name..." I hissed irritably, getting up in her face. My traditional move when arguing with Casey. Though I don't think getting this close to her really helps... But it's sure fun!

Casey closed her eyes and winced, shuddering. "I don't remember it, so it didn't happen..." She muttered to herself, half under her breath, chanting and repeating it over and over. She was trying to be secure and strong and not flip out... Admirable, but not working.

She forced her eyes open, staring straight back at me. I took a step back, shocked by the intensity of her blue-eyed gaze. That was another one of those moments where I wanted to throw her down on the ground and, well, you know... Get lost in the moment. Ah... Fuun.

"I have a boyfriend. _Sam_. You know, your **best** friend? So why don't you act like a best friend, and stop hitting on me!" Casey snarled, determined. Her eyes blazed, and she put her hands on her hips, looking confident. I'm sorry, but that is so beyond sexy. She literally looked like a goddess. I wanted to fall down on my knees and worship.

Okay, so not worship... But I _did_ want to look up that towel. Mm...

Fat chance of all of that happening, Casey. I mean, I like Sam, I really do... As a friend. But as your boyfriend? Well... Good luck. Every time he looks at you, I want to smack him. Makes me feel murderous.

Okay, so sue me, I'm a little possessive of my things! You're my stepsister, which makes you mine. I mean, I knew you way before little Sammy poo ever did. Way, way, way before.

"I'm not going to forget. You can't make me. In fact, it'll make a _lovely_ little anecdote to share at family dinners when we're all old and gray," I declared, smirking amusedly. Casey's jaw dropped, eyes wide and skeptical. She looks so naïve and innocent. Casey was visibly shaking with anger. If it was biologically possible, steam would've been coming out of her ears.

"I swear, Derek, sometimes I just want to defenestrate you," Casey seethed, moving towards me menacingly. Ooh, defenestrate. No clue what that means, but it sounds dirty. Defenestrate. Hmm.

I smirked, hands on my hips, moving closer. "You can _defenestrate_ me any day, Case," I remarked flirtatiously. Casey shook her head, disbelieving that I was still hitting on her. And maybe I misunderstood her. Go figure.

"I don't think George would appreciate me throwing his son out the window. Not to mention that I probably couldn't lift you... And you'd probably die or break your neck on the way down and out," Casey scoffed, chuckling. Okay, so maybe I'd made an ass out of myself. But, really, around Casey, is that anything new?

Yeah. I didn't think so.

Great to know she has these violent urges though... Really, what does she do with all that pent-up aggression? Whatever it is... it can't be good.

"Come on, Derek. You have to say it," Casey pleaded. Getting desperate, are we, Case? Well, sorry, but I won't. I'm not in denial, not like you.

"No."

Casey rolled her eyes, hands clamping down hard upon my shoulders. "It **didn't** happen," She stressed with gusto. But, Casey... It did. And I ain't denyin' it.

I shook my head, which was hard, considering how close she was. "I won't say it," I repeated stubbornly, closing my eyes, looking down, looking away... Doing anything so she couldn't sucker me in. Casey's eyes were like blue fire, such anger in their depths. She took a few, charged, hyperventilating breaths.

"Say it!" She screamed, tears in her eyes, shoving me hard against the wall. My posters rattled. I didn't know whether the tears were from anger, frustration, sadness... Or, well, what exactly. They might've even been to manipulate me. I can't say no to a crying girl. I really can't. At my lack of a response, Casey took it upon herself to scream at me again. "Say it!"

I sighed, capitulating. Ugh, I just hate waving the white flag. "It never happened. There, you _happy_?" I snapped bitterly, pushing her off of me with a bit more force than was necessary. I sure hope she's happy, because I am not! Not in the slightest.

I might act like it never happened... I might never bring it up again. But that doesn't stop me from remembering it. Or daydreaming.

What Casey doesn't know can't hurt her. Can it?

Casey sighed, obviously relieved. Then, out of nowhere, she blindsighted me with a hug. I was stiff with surprise and didn't hug her back. Then she smiled and walked out of the room. I threw on a pair of jeans, glancing at the clock which read, of course, 1:03. I did, after all, have a house to clean, and the party started in about six hours.

It wound up taking me another two hours to clean up the house. Then I pulled on a shirt and some shoes and grabbed some cash to go to the supermarket. I came back with chips, sodas, and some dip. I was going to order some pizza around party time. Which left me with three hours.

So I went up to my room, burned a couple CDs... That took another hour, which left me with two to get ready.

At this point, I had seen neither hide nor hair of Casey for the better part of the day. She might've been ignoring me, which she had good reason to do. Or she was calling her friends and burning her own CDs. She also helped secure the treasured family photos and other valuable knickknacks, moved the furniture so we had a dance floor, and locked the basement door. Smart move there.

Anyways, so I went to the bathroom, my chief hangout as of late. I took a shower, sickened by the fact that I thought of Casey as I did it. But I wasn't going to spend a long time in there. I hurried out, drying my hair hurriedly, and beginning to pull on my clothes.

Tight black pants, a dark red button-up shirt, my favorite pair of black work-boots. I didn't tuck the shirt in. I'm too cool for that. I left a few of the top buttons undone, fixing the collar so it was up the way I liked it, straight on end. I unbuttoned the buttons on the sleeves, rolling them up to my elbows. Then I started in on my hair.

It had to be gelled just right to achieve the perfect look. The perfect hot-yet-demonic look. You see, I'm going to be a devil. I mean, you know the Devil's hot. He is from Hell, after all. And how do you think he seduces people into evil if he doesn't seduce them?

See, perfect costume for me... I mean, either this or Casanova, and I really don't want to wear an ugly-ass wig.

Now I just had to get my leather jacket to make the look complete. Ooh, and peek in to see what Casey's wearing. Happy Halloween, Derek. I grabbed my jacket and walked out of my room, walking right into Casey. Casey had some clothes and make-up in her hands, and she looked sort of nervous. She bit her lip, looking at me for a minute. "Hey, Derek, I'm going to get ready for the party. Can you wait outside the bathroom door and tell me what you think?" She asked hesitantly.

I nodded. An excuse to check Casey out? Count me in. Casey sighed, relieved, hurrying into the bathroom. She slammed the door before I could follow. Bummer. And then she made me wait thirty minutes before she finally came out. Let me tell you, those thirty minutes were so worth it.

She walked out and stood before me in a black sleeveless shirt that was really low-cut (for Casey, that is) and really short. Let me just say it took the phrase crop-top to an entirely new level. It stopped only about an inch below where the bottom of her bra was. Not that I minded of course. Oh, and then there was everything else she was wearing... a skintight, black, pleated miniskirt that was almost scandalously short, and high heeled, black leather stiletto boots that went up to her knees. She was wearing those Babe Raider arm bracelets and a black ribbon choker around her neck, chain bracelets on her wrists.

She was also actually wearing make-up for once, and her hair was shiny, slightly wavy, and parted down the middle. She was wearing a lot of black eyeliner, thick, smoky, sort of blended in with her black eyeshadow and mascara. Her eyelashes were huge. She had on shiny, bright crimson lip-gloss, which made her teeth look whiter. I gazed over her approvingly.

She almost bit her lip, but remembered she was wearing lipstick and stopped. "So, uh, what do you think?" She questioned worriedly. What do I think, Casey? What do I think? I think you're a smoking babe, that's what I think!

She should definitely dress like this more often. My throat was rather dry, so I was speechless for a moment. Casey fidgeted, pulling her shirt down embarrassedly. "I think... you look... **hot**," I stuttered awkwardly.

Casey played with the hem of her shirt. "So, you don't think the shirt's too short?"

I shook my head so hard I almost got whiplash. "No _way_! It's the perfect length," I exclaimed boldly. To me, it was. She was going to be getting so many jealous looks at this party. Leaning against the wall, I looked her over again... I liked being able to do that. Wouldn't be able to stare at the party... People would talk, and we don't want them to do that.

Casey smiled at me, looking extremely relieved. Then I put on my jacket, and we hurried downstairs to make the final preparations.

"So," I called across the kitchen, "What are you supposed to be?" Casey grinned, covering the phone with her hand. She was ordering the pizza.

"A witch... Aren't I wicked?" Casey responded, cackling in a very witchy way. "You?"

I smirked. "The Devil."

Casey laughed. Obviously she was in good spirits. Which means she had come very far from this morning... A good thing I guess. "The Prince of Darkness. I should've guessed," Casey snorted. I joined her in laughter and soon, before I knew it, the party was raging.

I was forgetting about Casey and concentrating on making sure that everything was going right and networking. Everyone was here... That is, except Sam.

Sam was very late.

A whole bunch of Casey's private school friends had showed up too... Let's see... There was a fairy, a few angels, a nurse, a Playboy Bunny, a swimsuit model, Xena: Warrior Princess, Babe Raider, a couple rockstars, two punks, a goth, two other witches, a few queens/princesses, and a load of brides. Most of them were exceedingly pretty. Naturally.

Pretty girls hang out in packs. Where is Sam?

Seriously, if the guy doesn't show up soon, I'm going to have to hit on his girlfriend again. And we all know how much fun that is... She gets so riled up.

But of course, all the weird looks aren't really worth it. So I took it upon myself to flirt with her pretty friends instead. Let's see... Their names? Ooh, that's hard.

But I'll do it anyways.

Kristin, Jane, Anne, Kim, Kat, Kate, Katie, Catherine, Trina, Cassandra, Hallie, Wanda, Danielle, Christine, Mary, Tiffany, Julia, Gabrielle... I know there were more, but I forgot them. Oh well.

Speaking of ex-girlfriends... Loads of mine happen to be at this party... How did I let that happen? For instance, Sandra's currently glaring at me. Grreat.

Not many guys have seen Casey... She's in the center of this horde of girls, so they're all asking her friends to dance. And Sam hasn't exactly shown up yet. You know what... Screw it! I should ask Casey to dance. She's looking all hot and lonely and lovely...

Why not? Live a little, live large... I'm going to do it, I'm going to ask her to dance. Besides... This is her CD, and I know for a fact that she completely loves the next song. Okay, Casey, here we come... And no Sam around to watch.

Perfect, just completely, utterly perfect.

This is going to be fun.

I walked over to Casey and the girls, a challenging look in my eyes. They "oohed" and shot Casey jealous looks... As they rightly should. Because I like Casey. I like Casey McDonald...Venturi. Oh, well... We'll fix that.

Anyways, there! You happy? I finally admitted it!

"Hey, Case, babe, wanna dance?" I drawled, looking cool, holding out a hand. Casey blinked, looking at me with some disdain. Some nerve she's got there... If not her, then someone else. Besides, I'll just point out the fact that good ole Sammy-boy ain't here. Loser.

Her friends giggled, one of them poking her in the side. I don't remember her name, really... "Is that hottie your boyfriend?" She asked in a loud stage whisper.

Casey rolled her eyes, groaning as she saw the confident smirk spread across my face. "No," She mumbled crossly to her friend, "He's my stepbrother... _Derek_." She crossed her arms over her chest, once again pushing up her cleavage... Not that I minded. No, not in the slightest. If she wants to do that... Then let her. Completely. The disgust was evident in her tone, but I kept on smirking. I had to.

They exchanged interested looks, but I kept my eye on Casey, deciding to taunt her. "What, Casey, you afraid you won't be able to keep up?" I teased, grinning. I noticed the double entendre in my statement, and so did Casey. Her eyes narrowed at the hidden challenge.

"No, Derek. I'm a great dancer. I'm just worried that _you'll_ get lost on the dance floor..." Casey growled back, rather annoyed. Me, get lost on the dance floor? Yeah, right. Please. I get the hidden message too. She can keep up. Got it.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"_Me_, get lost on the dance floor? Yeah, right. I'll dance circles around you..." I argued back. Casey rolled her eyes and was about to reply when one of her friends interrupted by pushing Casey into me.

"Go on! Dance! Talk is cheap, and, girl, you need to live a little," She exclaimed cheerfully. Casey shot her weird friend a look, but I smiled at her amusedly, tipping my head to her. Then Casey grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the dance floor. A new song started up and we started to dance.

_...Flash that wicked smile..._

Loren ;

Okay, so I don't own that last line, but it belongs to next chapter's song. Hehe. Anyways, review, tell me if you like it, do a little happy dance... Fun stuff. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, people:)


	8. Bring It On

Wow. I'm impressed that this made it to eleven pages. Second night in a row I'm posting this late... Or just posting, for that matter. I've got school tomorrow. Ugh. I'm going to need the reviews then.

Actually, I'm surprised I posted so soon, because I swore I wouldn't. I should be working on Chestnuts too... Oh well. I sat down last night and finished "Quintessential", so I figured, hey, why not force myself to write "Bring It On" too. And there, I did it. Weird, but I'm review-hungry. ;)

You might not get another update for a while, though... Anyways...

I don't own the song, "Bring It On". It belongs to The Weekend. In case you can't tell (if you haven't read my profile, lol), I love them. After all, I've named the past, what, four Casey chapters after them? Or is it three? I can't remember. Plus, her next chapter's one of their songs... Whatever. Nor, for that matter, do I own anything connected with Life With Derek. I do, however, own Gabby and Julia. Oh, and the stuff towards the end about witches comes from my Euro book, ahem, Western Civilization by something... Spielvogel. Anyways...

Several things... One, the first part of the chapter was written directly after I had watched Cruel Intentions, so don't be surprised if she's channeling Kathryn. Casey's completely different in this chapter... All over the place. She's naïve, she's confused, she's manipulative, she's defensive, she's happy... It's big on foreshadowing the future. ;) Let's just say she changes... a lot. So, if you're a little surprised, I don't blame you. Oh, and sorry about the dancing... I'm not big on dancing, so it sorta sucks. But just imagine that they were dancing really well, okay? Oh, and there's probably veiled Instant Star references in there, which is probably because I was listening to my Alexz Johnson playlist while I was writing most of this... Lol... Just watch, I'll be naming chapters Un-Sweet Sixteen and Twenty-One. Actually, though, Twenty-One's a pretty good song... It's by Subb. And I'm a big Wakefield fan, so don't be surprised if you see a chapter named Lost or Hors d'Oeuvres Avant le Coup d'Etat... especially that last one. I heart that song. Anyways, rambling, and you guys don't like that.

You know, if anyone can tell me what episodes the quotes are from and who said them, I'll give you a spoiler. I happen to love giving out spoilers. Especially to people who make long reviews or talk to me on IM, lol. ;) Anyways, HINT hint there... The quote below shouldn't be too hard to figure out. ;)

So, all I have to say before I give out the chapter is, lol, enjoy your Big Mac (do you think it's catching on, Heather? Nope? Damn). See, because it's like a Casey sandwich... Derek and Sam... Hehe, right, the chapter... Without further ado.

* * *

"I'm the stepsister you've always wanted."

* * *

Derek doesn't think I can keep up? Well, I'll show him. And besides, Sam's not here... I've got to do something. I can't just stand here, at my own party, and be a wallflower just because my idiot of a boyfriend didn't arrive on time. That's his problem, not mine.

I mean, does he think I'm looking this good for Derek? The answer to that question would be no. Hell no. I spent a lot of time looking this good, and he'd better appreciate it. That's why I'm going to make him wish he was on time. And what better way than by dancing with Derek, notorious playboy and girlfriend-thief. Not that Sammy has anything to worry about there. Of course not.

Getting involved with Derek is stupid, and every girl who has regrets it. Just ask Sandra... And, well, Vicky sure didn't look happy at the end of that date. Not that I blame her. If I went out on a date with Derek, I think I would have to excuse myself to the toilet to vomit. I don't care how good of a kisser he is. Not that I know, of course... I mean, when he fed me that cockamamie story, thinking I'd believe it... My first thought was that he had obviously lost his mind. Which, of course, I'm sure he has, but that was long ago and not something I need to be thinking of. So there.

Honestly, if I keep thinking about Derek, I'm going to lose my mind, and, well, I happen to like my mind and enjoy using it. That's the difference between me and Derek. I think with my brain, and, well, he thinks with his... you know what I mean, don't you?

Of course you do.

Derek pulled me on to the dance floor, acting as if he owned the place, which he does, as the song started up. He grinned, loving the way that people stared at him, shooting me a flirtatious look. Then he came up, really close to me.

_Punk rock shows, DUIs..._

Derek smirked at the lyrics. DUIs? Aren't we a bit young for that? I mean, Derek hasn't even been taking driving lessons that long... We were swaying lightly to the music... at first, anyways. Then things started... heating up just a little. Well, I guess that's Derek for you. One minute he's normal, then BAM, he's blindsighted you.

_Leather jacket, but sweet brown eyes..._

Speaking of brown eyes and a leather jacket... Derek was a really good dancer. He leaned in further, sliding his hands down to my hips. I turned away from him, so that he was facing my back. He still pulled me closer, swaying his hips back and forth slowly, getting closer and closer and closer! "They're staring at you, you know," He whispered in my ear. Me? Why are they staring at me?

Oh, because I look hot. Right. That's... weird. Plus, I'm dancing with Derek... Oh, how could I forget? Wrapping one of my arms around the back of his neck, I started swaying my hips too. The idiot doesn't think that I can dance... I'll show him, won't I? Haha, Derek, here's my revenge. I ran my other hand up his shirt... not his jacket, his shirt. Let's see who's victorious here. Derek groaned... personally, I'm not that fond of grinding. I detest it, but, hey, it's Halloween.

_Flunk the test, drive me wild..._

He flunks a lot of tests... I wonder why. Obviously, he's not stupid. Okay, maybe that's not exactly true. He is... I've learned, from all our run-ins, that he's not a moron. You have to have a brain to plot out things the way he does. Of course he has a brain... He just doesn't use it a lot of the time. It's really quite a shame. I've seen the things he can do when he uses it... just imagine what he could do if he applied himself!

Not that that's ever going to happen.

Derek forced me to turn around, grabbing my hand and spinning me out without a warning. I'm dizzy. Great! Flunking a test is no stretch for Derek. Driving me wild? Fat chance, Dere. He pulled me in quickly, and I fell into his chest a bit harder than I intended. Oof.

As if on cue, he smirked.

Naturally.

_Crash a car, flash that wicked smile..._

Considering the way he lives... I bet he drives faast. He lives life in the fast lane, after all. So crashing a car's not a stretch. I don't think there's much that Derek won't do, really.

He pulled me closer, illustrating my point.

_Out late on a Saturday night..._

What time is it? It feels like I've been dancing for ages. That can't be true, though. This song is what... two minutes? Maybe three at the most? This is ridiculous.

I backed away from Derek a little, and he moved towards me. Why can't he just stay back? I mean, I just got his hands off of me! He leaned in further, still grinning, and I leaned back. I'm not going to let him win. I am a good dancer in my own right, and I'll show him that!

_You come around, yeah..._

I leaned forward suddenly, shaking my chest. Derek's eyes widened exponentially, and this time I smirked. Derek's vices are his weaknesses. And girls (a.k.a. cleavage) are his biggest weakness. He is such a sucker for sex appeal.

_You're looking all right..._

Derek followed my lead a moment later, and it was as if it was planned. Every move I made, he made with me. Every move he made, I made with him. It wasn't like this with any other guy I've ever danced with. It wasn't ever this... easy... This free...

_Pat your ride, leave my friends to you..._

_Don't drink, and we'll disappear..._

One of my friends, Gabby, tried to cut in. Okay, in all honesty, Gabby really isn't a friend of mine. She's kind of... We hang out, but she doesn't like me. And anyone who knows Gabby knows that she goes completely boy-crazy over any remotely attractive guy, especially if she sees him with me.

Wait, did I just say that Derek was attractive?

You were checking him out the other night.

No, I wasn't!

Liar.

Oh, shut up! The idiot's driving you insane again! Not like that's anything new.

Derek took one look at her and practically flattened me against him. There was not even one inch between us. I could smell his cologne... It's really too strong. I hate it when guys put on too much cologne. It's like they want themselves to be smelled from a mile away. They're worse than skunks. Then he turned to her and said, real smoothly, of course, "Me and Casey are a little busy here, if you don't mind."

Gabby scoffed and walked off. Ha, so there, Gabby! Wait, am I gloating because Derek just blew her off to dance with me? I don't want to dance with Derek, remember! That could've been my out! Stupid Derek! Derek smirked yet again and I found myself wanting to slug him yet again. The song slowed a little and I tried my hardest to get away from him, but his grip was hard as iron.

_Under the starlit sky..._

_Outside watching cars pass by..._

_Find out what's on your mind..._

Just what, exactly, was on Derek's mind? I swear, lately he's lost his mind even more than before! What's he thinking asking me to dance in the first place! He knows I'm dating Sam... who hasn't shown up yet. I know Derek's up to something. I can smell it.

I just... don't know what it is yet. But I'll find out. I swear I will.

Derek twirled me around, spinning me out and pulling me back in. I would've just let go of his hand, but I was sort of afraid I'd fall and, well... Klutzilla myself again. No, wait, I only do that in the presence of Sam... and Derek... but mostly Sam.

We circled each other, pacing, staring warily at one another for a while. Derek smirked.

_Bring it on!_

_Make me like it!_

_Make it worth it!_

_Turn it on..._

_Like a light switch..._

_Make it worth it!_

_Bring it on!_

Our eyes locked. It was a mad dash to see who would grab the other first. His hands roamed all over me, but I didn't let it get me down. I would get my revenge soon enough.

I licked my lips, grinning evilly. And then I pressed against him, closing the distance between us. There wasn't an inch between our bodies. This was beginning to become a familiar position... ugh. But I wasn't getting close because I wanted to. I had to, with what I had in mind.

I moved naturally, gracefully, as the movements came to me. He moved in sync with me, and his eyes didn't stray from mine. I saw the challenge there. Bring it on, Derek.

Suddenly, everyone else was forgotten... but I still heard the whispers. About my relationship with Sam... Was Derek dating anyone? Try everyone... How hot was I? Who is that girl? How'd she wind up dancing with Derek? Because, hello, she's the hottest chick at the party, and Derek always picks a winner... Isn't she dating his best friend? Wait, he's her stepbrother, right? They're like... related. Eew. That's totally gross.

Aren't they dating?

So many questions, questions, questions... Driving me crazy!

But I just focused on the task at hand... seducing my stepbrother. Wait, no, that's not right. It can't be. I'm not trying to seduce him... I'm just trying to trick him, is all... Make him all hot and heavy and into me and then... crash his pathetic little hopes.

Man, that's manipulative. I don't think I've got the guts to pull it off. It's sort of mean, too... But, it wouldn't be the first time I've manipulated Derek... Hmm, I think I took that movie a little too literally last night. I don't want to be Kathryn. I'm not... like that. And yet, here you are, trying to emulate her...

No, I don't! I just... want to annoy Derek a little.

Yeah, right. You want to lead him on. You want to make him think you're into him and then leave him high and dry, what, wanting you? Please! As if Derek will even fall for that. He will see right through you.

Please... He's a hormonal sixteen-year-old boy. He'll be all over it. He laps up the attention like a dog. And, after all, I am a very good actress.

Uh, why am I doing this again?

_Live the movie, life the lie..._

Derek licked his lips, leaning in a little. There was a weird look in his eyes. Not lust though... I think.

"Why are you with Sam? He hasn't even shown up yet..." Derek asked, frowning a little. For some reason, he didn't look happy about it. Well, I guess Sam is his best friend. It's always nice to have a wingman.

What is he doing asking me questions like that? It just doesn't make sense. My relationship with Sam is none of his business. He might be my stepbrother and my boyfriend's best friend, but he is neither of our keepers. I wish he could just butt out of my business for once in his life! Doesn't he see how annoying it is?

I don't like him, I barely tolerate him, and I want to kill him half the time anyways. I don't want to talk to him any more than is necessary. It's bad enough that I have to live with him and... share one bathroom. One bathroom for five kids? Please.

"None of your business," I snapped, leaning hard against him. Derek raised his eyebrows, a little breathless, but he relaxed against me. His hands slid across the part of my back under my shirt but above my skirt. I felt sticky with sweat. I noticed that Derek was sweating too.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, maybe there's a reason he's late..." Derek suggested, raising his eyebrows. I knew immediately that he was hinting at something, but what...

Did Derek know something I didn't? Do you think he and Sam talk about me when I'm not around? Or, or other girls, maybe? Like what about Sam's past girlfriends? I'm sure a cutie like him has to have had some...

_Different story every night..._

"Do you know something?" I asked without thinking, eyes wide. Derek frowned, confused, but shook his head no. He looked conflicted for a minute, but shook his head again.

"No," He muttered to himself, concentrating on the dancing. I let him dip me down low. It felt weird depending on Derek, of all people... Even if it was just to make sure I didn't fall and to pull me back up.

Come to think of it, Sam had been late a lot lately. Sure, he was already there when Derek and I got to the theater, but, still... He's always late picking me up. But that's because he knows I'm never ready on time. And maybe he was late to a couple of our dates at the coffeehouse, but that was only because I got there a couple minutes early.

I mean, it's obviously nothing. I'm just overreacting a little because stupid, moronic, idiot Derek has planted some clearly crazy ideas in my head. And Derek is not to be trusted... obviously. Plus... he has no point, no basis... Nothing.

I shimmied, twisting free of his grip a little. Okay, so sue me, I wanted a little space! Being that close to Derek is stressful! But Derek managed to pull me back against him, as he always did.

Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in!

_Make me twist, make me shout..._

_Hit the bottle, baby, let it all out!_

That reminded me of my goal, which was, of course, to drive Derek crazy for a change. Payback. That's what I wanted. All I wanted. I didn't want Derek.

I stared deep in his eyes, pretending to look whipped and deliriously in love with Derek the Stupid. My eyes got all big and round... I let my knees buckle a little, and made sure the straps of my shirt slid down my shoulders a little. See, I can be sexy!

_Under the starlit sky..._

_Outside watching cars pass by..._

_Find out what's on your mind..._

You know, I bet I'm really confusing him right now. But that's just too bad, now isn't it? Let Derek think what he wants to think... After all, I'll be victorious in the end.

A smirk spread across my face with that thought. Finally, I would win over Derek... for a change. Complete victory over him. It felt nice. My eyes sparkled with an evil fire. Then I got an idea.

I turned around so my back was against him, pulling him against me. I was going to make him lose it.

_Bring it on!_

_Make me like it!_

_Make it worth it!_

_Turn it on..._

_Like a light switch..._

_Make it worth it!_

_Bring it on!_

I ran my hands up his chest, leaning against him, panting deliberately. He stiffened against me, and his breath sped up. It was then that I noticed there was this sort of empty circle around us, you know, like they have in the movies for the really good dancing couple who're really into each other? That was obviously not Derek and me.

I heard Derek swallow hard and then lick his lips. He grabbed my hand and spun me further away from him. Oh, so now you want to play it safe, Dere? Well that's just too bad. I tried to get closer, but Derek thwarted my attempts with precision. Impressive, but not quite good enough.

He did his best to show me off like some priceless jewel on the dance floor. Hmm, I guess he wasn't lying about how he could dance. There was a lot of chemistry. I wonder if he dances this way with everyone.

Yes, Derek was exerting himself, for some odd reason. To get his mind off things, maybe? A very nice distraction, 'Rek, but it's not going to work. Even though, as the moment, it was all I could do to just keep up... There was no doubt in my mind.

I just had to go about things very carefully.

_In a different world..._

_And a different time..._

_In a different... state of mind..._

I grinned slowly, feeling myself blink a lot. Might as well bat my eyelashes at him. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I noticed that he looked a little confused. I took advantage of his confusion to sneak closer to him. Closer and closer.

He wouldn't know what hit him. I kept on smiling, making my movements purposely slow. My hands kept slipping, and I kept blushing, as if on cue. I giggled stupidly, acting like a lovestruck fool, but no one else heard me over the music. It really looked like I was having a good time.

Too bad I wasn't.

_Taking it slowly..._

_See right through me..._

_Yeah, you do!_

_You see right through..._

I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, leaning in a little further. I pulled my hips up against his, pretending like I didn't know what I was doing. I pressed my chest against his, balancing some of my weight on him. Derek's eyes were darker than usual... A little cloudy.

He was almost at his breaking point. I'm just... helping him along.

Man, Casey, you are evil. And I thought Derek was the twisted one around here...

Well, vengeance is a funny thing, after all...

_Under the starlit sky..._

_Outside watching cars pass by..._

_Find out what's on your mind..._

I leaned in still closer, plastered up against him. His hands gripped my hips tight, trying futilely to push me away. I wasn't having any of that. I just pushed my hips harder against his, straining my muscles. I grinned slightly, tightening my grip around his neck, forcibly dragging him closer and closer.

I wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life here, but I quickly forgot that thought. I just had to do it. There was no way of getting around it.

Derek's hands grabbed at my hips painfully. I looked down; his knuckles were white. I moaned, not out of pleasure, in pain. I wondered if this was going to bruise... Well, it wouldn't be the first time Derek's given me a bruise. I bit my lip, trying to suppress my cry of pain, but then I saw him smirk. I felt sick.

But I was determined to not let him win. So I steeled myself, trying to ignore his iron grip, and looked him hard in the eyes. "Bring it on," Derek hissed, leaning a little in my face.

I'll show him, all right. You'll be begging for mercy, Derek.

_Bring it on..._

I played with his hair.

_Make me like it!_

A coy smile wound its way across my face.

_Make it worth it!_

I looked him in the eyes, looking down shyly and then glancing back up.

_Turn it on!_

I could feel his hands, bruising, blazing, and burning my skin black and blue at the hips.

_Like a light switch..._

I forcibly slammed my hips against his, refusing to move.

_Make it worth it!_

Derek groaned, biting his lip, and closing his eyes in agony.

_Bring it on..._

I smirked victoriously. He was as good as gone. Your ass is mine.

_Bring it on!_

I leaned in closer, creeping my hand up his neck, caressing his cheek.

I licked my lips seductively, pouting a little, pushing my lips out.

There was only a few inches between our faces.

I had now blocked everything else, like tunnel vision.

I licked my lips again, staring at his, hoping he'd get the hint. Come on, Derek, SNAP already!

_Punk rock show, DUIs..._

I could feel his warm breath against my face. Yeah, come on, Derek, you know you want to...

Let me leave you looking like the fool.

I stopped moving, staring directly at Derek. The song was winding down. Finally, he started to lean in, closing his eyes.

_Leather jacket, what a sweet surprise..._

In fact, Derek was less than a millimeter away from my lips, about ready to kiss the hell out of me when...

"Casey?"

Oh, crap. Sam. My boyfriend. Derek's best friend. Crap. Derek opened his eyes and smirked at me. It was then that I knew that it was a total set up. I couldn't hide the surprise on my face, I just gaped at Derek, looking from Derek to Sam again and again. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to say.

And Sam was looking at me funny. We had stopped dancing in the middle of the dance floor, and were beginning to look out of place. Fortunately, the music hadn't stopped... A new song was playing, but I could only stand there, motionless.

Derek smirked, his arms still draped around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "I always win, Casey. You were stupid to think that you could change that," He drawled smugly. Then he pulled back, looking completely unaffected. Some bimbo flocked to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him off... not that I was too broken up about it. Derek's grin widened as he wrapped an arm around her.

"Don't wait up, Case," Derek yelled over the sounds of the party, saluting me mockingly and glancing excitedly at the girl who was dragging him off. He only thinks he's getting lucky tonight. I'll put a stop to those matters personally. Can't have any hanky-panky going on at my own party, now can I?

Still flummoxed by my mysterious encounter with Derek, I turned to face my boyfriend, who looked adorably confused. He frowned. "What was that all about?" Sam asked curiously.

Though I was panicking inside, I managed to shrug it off. "You know Derek," I muttered, grabbing Sam's hand and pulling him on to the dance floor. I made sure to give him a big kiss hello, but I still felt dirty, like I'd cheated on him or something.

But I hadn't! I'd just... danced with Derek. One single dance. One single stupid idiotic dance. What on Earth was I trying to prove? Trying to seduce my stepbrother? Am I mental?

I don't EVER want to kiss Derek! Now he probably thinks I do! Ugh. That would be horrible. I don't care what he says... Or what anyone else says. I don't want to!

I obviously lost my mind. I was so caught up in getting revenge that I didn't think about anything else. Derek was playing me. Ugh, I feel sick.

I feel like I need to make it up to Sam... for what's been going on lately with Derek and me. I feel so guilty... like I'm an emotional adulteress because Derek keeps hitting on me... And I keep winding up in these bizarre situations with him. Like stuck in the bathroom... I always wind up in the bathroom with him, for some bizarre reason. Or when I woke up in bed with him this morning with no recollection of how I got there? And he was... touching me inappropriately too! Oh, I just feel bad about it... and, sure, I know it's not my fault, right? It isn't my fault, right?

The scary thing is that I don't know anymore.

Besides back there, when have I ever deliberately done something to... to make him think that I... that I feel... differently towards him than... I mean, when?

As far as I can tell... never.

Uh, right?

I danced hard, throwing my all into it as a punishment. The throbbing in my feet became a reward. I lavished attentions on Sam all night, playing the role of dutiful girlfriend. I ran about getting him drinks and snacks, talking to him and letting him have his space. I held his hand, smiled at him stupidly, made goo-goo eyes, played with his hair... Kissed him, touched him... Like crazy.

Sam had showed up to the party without a costume, and, for some reason, that stung a little. But I remembered what had happened and forced myself to ignore the niggling feelings of doubt and irritation. His hair was messy too, but at least he wasn't wearing that ugly hat again! All he had to do was smile and... I forgot everything I was mad about.

I did go off and talk to my friends about my fabulous boyfriend. They were happy for me. What good friends I have. Unfortunately, however, they asked more questions about Derek than Sam, and these were not questions I wanted to answer. I had firmly drawn the line in my head separating Derek and Sam long ago... And I knew I could not compare them... for my own sanity!

So I just blew off their questions, dancing with my friends and Sam... Sure, some other guys asked, but I turned them all down. What kind of perfect girlfriend would I be if I said yes? I am not a slut! No, I'm not... Though maybe some of them think, you know, with this outfit and the way I was dancing with Derek (really a lot different than the way I dance with Sam)... Oh, I don't know!

The guilt was returning... Though, speaking of sluts, there was Derek, in all his glory, chatting up one of my friends in the corner.

I'd been discreetly keeping tabs on him all night. He had made out with a lot of the girls at the party... Man, he gets around. But I insured that his jobs as host kept him busy. Not as busy as the girls kept him, but still busy enough. It was enough to keep him from getting a little too close, too fresh, if you know what I mean...

My friend, Julia (not the mental one who made me go dance with Derek... That's Tiffany), saw who I was looking at and smirked. Ugh, not another reminder of Derek. Julia was sensible like me, though, and she also happened to be really smart.

I saw her talking to Derek before, and let me tell you, I was impressed! She didn't buy into all his crap like the other girls, even Sandra... She saw right through him. Not many girls can do that, for some odd reason... I don't get it. Does he think he's charming or something? Do they think he's charming? He really isn't charming at all... He's a huge jerk!

Julia sort of blew him off in a polite way... Derek went off, muttering under his breath. I didn't quite catch it... something about being frozen, having a mountain of ice shoved up her... you know... a lack of warmth, an Ice Age. Julia, in turn, muttered something about psychotic strangers and the full moon. Yeah, it does make people crazy, no matter what they say.

Like tonight. There's a full moon tonight. That's why I'm being so whacked about it. That has to be it.

"I couldn't blame you, if you wanted to, you know..." Julia said dryly, sipping her soda. She'd been in the bathroom when I had said that Derek was my stepbrother. This from a girl who doesn't like Derek? I shot her a look of disgust and disbelief. Julia snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Please, Jules! He's my stepbrother. That's gross... Practically incest. Besides, I have Sam, and Sam's _perfect_!" I responded glibly, hiding my deeper annoyance. Sam was looking at me. I smiled dreamily at him and waved. Julia gave me a disapproving look, gesturing to Sam.

"If Sam's **so** perfect, then why did he show up to his girlfriend's party late _and_ without a costume?" Julia pointed out wisely, shooting me a look. She reminded me yet again of Derek, which irritated me to no end. Honestly, where did she get off, pretending she knew things I didn't? I forced myself to calm down. Her point was valid, and she wasn't hinting at anything... Besides, my Sam would never... I trust him, and that's all that matters.

Julia shrugged, downing a bit more of her drink. She raised her eyebrows. "I saw you dancing with Derek and I saw you dancing with Sam, okay, Case? And even if you weren't all over him, you _still_ had more chemistry with Derek," Julia explained, putting a hand on her waist. I glared at her. What, was she encouraging me to... whatever... with Derek?

Did he put her up to this!

No, no, no! That's absolutely ridiculous! Julia is a loyal friend, I know!

If she's such a loyal friend, then why is she telling me something I obviously don't want to hear? Friends don't always tell you what you want to hear... Real friends don't, at least...

Did she think she was helping me? I guess I could understand then... Only she wasn't helping me. She was confusing me even more. I sighed, looking out at the dance floor moodily, biting my lip and taking another sip of my Coke. I still felt a little sick to my stomach from everything.

"I **hate** Derek," I spat venomously, narrowing my eyes at the very thought of him. I felt murderous. I could feel the hate burning in my eyes. Julia saw and backed away a little, pouring herself some more soda. She seemed pensive for a moment, pursing her lips, as if she was reflecting carefully on what to say. For a long while, she said nothing, but then her eyes lit up with knowledge, and I knew she had found her answer.

"Think about it, Casey... You're a witch. He's the Devil. You don't see the connection?" Julia asked, trying to make me draw a connection. I, on the other hand, was confused, and didn't see her point. Julia frowned, sighing frustratedly. She didn't want to have to explain... Too bad, Jules. Spill.

Julia rolled her eyes, playing with her cup. "Remember when you and I did that project on the Witchhunts in Europe during the fifteenth century?" How could I forget? I was the one who had to make the costumes and read for the witch. That was a long, exhausting project. I nodded, wondering where she was going with this. Her little attempt to jog my memory obviously hadn't worked. "You remember how the women almost always confessed... to things they never did? Like casting spells, putting curses on people, and, I quote, "cohabiting" with the Devil?" She hinted, shooting me a look.

My face fell immediately, and I understood what she meant... Finally, completely, really. Grreat. Ugh, kill me now! What she said... Witches were tied to the Devil. They met with the Devil, swore their allegiance to the Devil, were marked by the Devil... They worshiped the Devil at their stupid Black Masses!

Just because I dress up like a witch doesn't mean I am one.

Oh, really, then why were you being such a manipulative witch with Derek? I wasn't, though! He's the evil one around here!

I am not a witch, though! I'm no pagan or satanist!

I don't worship Derek, first of all! And I don't swear to him... Except truces, from time to time... I'm not tied to him... by blood bond. Our parents are married, though. And I don't meet up with him, like on dates! Except when I run into him in the bathroom or the hall or the foyer... Uh, what am I proving here, exactly? I can't really tell, but... I think there was something else.

Oh, yeah! Cohabitation.

And I most certainly don't sleep with him!

Uh... Except for this morning, you know, I ought to rephrase that!

I don't have sex with Derek on a regular basis! There... Erm, at all. At all. Not at all. None. Never. Never ever. Never ever ever ever. Ever. Never. Why would I? That's stupid and I hate him and, just, ew! I don't have sex with Derek the Devil, so you see, I am not a witch! So there!

But cohabitation also means to live together... with a sexual implication! I do live with Derek... But I'm not screwing him or anything and... He's rubbing off on me. Great, just great! You know, this has to stop. His influence is bad, bad, bad. Yes, it must stop.

"It means **nothing**. Just a weird coincidence, Julia. Drop it," I hissed through clenched teeth, throwing back the rest of the Coke without a thought. I raced over to plant a kiss on Sam, roughly tugging him on the dance floor and dancing even closer to prove a point... to Julia, to Sam, to Derek... but not to myself. Never to myself. I already knew, after all...

I couldn't help but notice, however, that Derek was a better dancer.

Oh, crap, I just did the unspeakable! I compared them. Bad, bad, bad thought! Get out of my head! NOW!

Good, good... Cool. Relax... You didn't think that. And... chill.

You need it, Case.

Before I knew it, the party was ending. It was eleven and they all had curfews. But that was okay because Sam was staying over (for a while, not the whole night) to have a Halloween movie marathon. I waved goodbye, hugging all of my friends. Derek gave a different type of goodbye, which was, pretty much, making out with over half of the girls at the party. Yeah, ew, gross. He had a pretty high stack of numbers when it was all over and done with... somehow. I still don't get it. Animal magnetism is a myth, really...

And whatever it is... He doesn't have it. Obviously.

Then we all sat down to watch some movies... Innocently, I thought. But knowing Derek, I should've realized the impossibility of that happening anytime soon.

After all, both Derek and Sam were there. I would wind up making out with one of them... Sam, in case you're absolutely moronic and think I kissed Derek. Bleh. That's sick, and you're twisted.

Derek didn't take too kindly to my kissing his dear friend. Too bad.

Personally, I think he was just pissed that he didn't have a girl of his very own to French, like, for example, our dearest cousin, Victoria. You know what they say... Victoria's Secret.

But, just what, exactly, was her secret? What had happened between my cousin and my stepbrother. I silently vowed to find out, all the while wondering why exactly I was interested.

Why am I watching horror movies? I hate horror movies. Halloween, Scream, Chucky, Nightmare on Elm Street? Silently, I prayed that we wouldn't finish the marathon.

But hey, there was always Sam's lap to curl up in... I could feel warm and safe and protected... Protected because Sam likes me. That little thought led to a huge revelation.

The revelation that I, Casey McDonald, am in love for the first time.

I'm in love with Sam. I'm in love with Sam. I'm in love with Sam!

I just want to shout it out to the rooftops and tell him how I feel. I love you, Sam. Love you, Sam. You mean the world to me, Sammy. I'm madly in love with you! I'm in love with Sam and I like it!

Wow.

I love Sam.

I can't stop smiling, you know... There's this stupid grin plastered on my face, and I just can't seem to get it off... I'm smiling like a total idiot, but I don't care.

I'm about to watch hideous horror movies, which I hate even more than I hate Derek, but I don't care. In fact, I don't even care about Derek anymore! He can bug me all he wants, but I won't let it get me down! He won't affect me...

Because I'm in love, love, love, a thousand times love, with Sam! And right now I feel absolutely, truly, incandescently content... for the first time! I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love!

All I can feel are the butterflies in my stomach, jumping up and flying around. My head is filled with visions of rainbows and unicorns and... _Sam_, my love, my one and only. Ah, Sam...

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways... Oh, Lord. I'm starting to spout poetry. I'm completely insane.

I decided then and there to tone down my ecstasy a little bit. I bit my lip to keep down the smile and grabbed Sam's hand. Sparks, soft, sweet, warm, rush, love! He smiled back at me, and I swooned internally.

It's Halloween, but it feels like Valentine's day because I love Sam... always and forever.

Loren ;

Yeah, I know, if you thought that part about her loving Sam was totally out of left field, me too... I was sorta trying to get to ten pages, so I started adding stuff. And BAMMO, she's in love with Sam. I'm trying to make it very symbolic... Lol... Sorta symbolic.

Review and I'll love you forever! Lol... Or I'll just blame you little ungrateful weasels for my sore neck, back, and shoulders, as well as my poor skinned elbows and near-blindness. Nah, just kidding. I love you guys and appreciate all of your reviews (seriously, the hit count for this story is only a couple hundred under my 20 chapter fic, and I haven't even reached ten yet, though, I assure you, you'll love chapter ten with the burning passion of a thousand suns, or, anyways, you will if you like Big Macs...)! Muah!


	9. What's a Boy to Do?

Okay, several things... I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Eh, I just didn't have the energy to make it longer. I also apologize for the long wait. Two, I really don't like this chapter. I mean, sure, I like bits of it, but I just don't like... it, overall, you know what I mean? Probably because Sam's in it. Anyways, there's some foreshadowing at the end, blah, blah, blah... The next chapter is the one ya'll should be looking forward to, "Temporary Insanity". Anyhow, some interesting stuff's gonna go down in that chap. Hehe.

Don't own LWD. Period.

Here's a line from the next chapter (BTW, I have none of it written. Oh well)... Derek says it. ;)

"Trick or treat?"

Anyways, reviews are appreciated highly. Thank you.

* * *

"Like me liking your best friend is _so_ threatening to you..."

* * *

It's weird... just when I think I've got her all figured out, Casey throws me for a loop... like she did tonight. Boy, did she ever! I mean, for a couple seconds I was wondering if she'd been replaced by a pod person. Then she, well... Then I just completely forgot about it.

I was in a haze the entire time. I'm surprised I can even remember anything. I'm pretty sure I didn't even have one thought that entire time. I was just kind of... there. I mean, trying to control myself was hard enough. I swear, if it was any other girl, I would've dragged her off to the bathroom or something and locked the door behind me. But it was Casey...

Casey, of all people, flirting with me! Me! Somehow I managed to bring up Sam, even though in my delusions, he was pretty much a myth, by that point. I'm surprised I was capable of any coherent speech, to tell the truth. When I was dancing with her... I didn't even want to let go! I know there's something wrong with that.

She was trying to seduce me. And that's the weird part... The part I just don't get. I mean, sure, she could turn on any guy in the place (even the gay ones) dancing the way we were and wearing that outfit... But why me? I mean, I'm her boyfriend's best friend, and I really don't see the logic in it. I still wonder what would've happened if Sam had been a few seconds too late...

If Sam hadn't shown up... I mean, I totally would've lost it. But, would that really have been so bad? Yeah, 'cause, Dude, she's your stepsister.

I mean, was she just acting the whole time? 'Cause it sure felt real... at least to me, anyways... And if there's one thing I know, it's that you can't fake chemistry. On the dance floor, on a date, and especially on a Chemistry test... I mean, you can try... but you know, and they know, you know? If she was acting, she was a lot better than I thought...

She was trying to make me lose it completely. I got that. I almost did lose it completely. There wasn't a single thought floating around in my head when she was moving to kiss me at the end or... whatever. But what I want to know is why... Was she trying to manipulate me? If she was... maybe I'm rubbing off on her.

Is that good? I think it's good... It's bad that she knows she can affect me. But this is Casey, sweet, innocent little Casey... who wants absolutely nothing to do with me and hates my guts!

Man, you do not sound happy about that.

Oh, shut it. Talking to yourself is pathetic, and you, Derek, are not pathetic. Sam is pathetic.

And Sam's also dating the one girl you actually give a damn about... So who's really the pathetic one here, D? Uh, let's see... You.

See, that's why I hate Sam... I mean, I was gonna really kiss Casey. She might've been manipulating me, yes, but she's crazy if she thought that she could just pull away and make _me_ look like an idiot. I wouldn't have let her. I would've grabbed her and planted a big one on her, marking my territory. Yeah, my territory, my turf... So back off, Sam! Get the hell away from my girl!

Unfortunately, it seems he hasn't gotten the memo. Which really pisses me off, and I don't enjoy being pissed off. We're watching some crappy horror film right now. Sam's staring at Casey with this dopey dreamy look on his face. Ugh. I just want to smack that look right off his face, I swear! I'm gonna go postal on him one of these days, best friend or not, and it isn't going to be pretty.

I will kick his ass. I will subsequently have to find a new best friend, but, hey, I'm Derek Venturi... People will be lining up.

Living with those four sisters of his must've softened him up. Hey, I have three, and I'm fine... I did not just call Casey my sister. Ew. She's not... That's twisted and wrong and technically true, but that's not my point. I mean, I had to deal with Dad's endless parade of girlfriends, dates, "friends" (sex buddies), and step-mommies growing up. That was enough women for me. Might be why I'm sorta misogynistic. But it made me tough, it made me the man I am today... You have no idea how many of them I drove off... It was kinda sick, really. A few of them (okay, a lot of them) came on to me... It was just, eww... I mean, really, why would I want to be sloppy seconds to my dad? That's just sick and wrong.

Mom died when I was nine... Younger than Edwin is now. Edwin was four and Marti was just a baby, not even six months old. They don't remember her much. She was... nice and beautiful and... I don't remember her much either. Anyways, about three years back, Daddy Dearest fell in love. With Abby.

She was a wretched woman. Ugh. All of us hated her. Especially Marti. She treated us like dirt, tried to impose all these new rules, and virtually ignored Edwin. In fact, Dad had a business trip one week. Abby was supposed to pick us up from school. She was an hour late to pick me up (I'd gotten a ride after fifteen minutes... I loathe waiting), and forgot Edwin entirely.

She loooved Marti though. Thought she was the most precious thing ever. She tried to baby her, and Marti was kinda hilarious about the whole thing. She enjoyed peeing on Mommy Abby's new clothes. We tried to adjust for... I dunno... About a month. But then she did something... It was a lot smaller than we made it out to be, but we just couldn't take it anymore, you know?

I think it was a pink lace toilet seat. Anyways, we held our own little "family" meeting, and made the informal declaration of war. Abby never knew what hit her. I'd feel bad, but she was just such a bitch. I don't really know why she married my dad, but it wasn't love. I think she wanted to marry a lawyer for the money and prestige (ha! My dad was working pro-bono the entire time they were married). We made her life a living hell. It should be noted that she had the fortitude to last just short of three months.

She got paranoid towards the end... She and Dad were always arguing about us. One day she couldn't take it anymore... So she left. Dad blamed the marriage on "temporary insanity" and got a divorce or an annulment or... something. I'm so glad we got rid of her.

So I'm sitting here watching some crappy horror movie that doesn't even scare me, with Sam and Casey (who, might I add, is terrified of horror movies) making out on the couch next to me. So sick. You can see why I prefer the odious horror movie. I keep imagining each dead, bloody, battered person is Sam. It's cathartic, really.

Ugh, I swear, I wanna strangle the guy. I want him to choke on his own spit. I want Casey's lips to suffocate him... No, wait, I don't. Ew. Man, I need to get out of here before I actually act on these oh-so-violent urges. Which I'm really about two steps away from doing. I swear... He knows I can beat him. I mean, I was winning that wrestling match we had before he landed Casey.

Speaking of Casey, really, it's disgusting. They're all over each other. I mean, sure, neither of their hands are wandering any... Aww, how sweet. So sickeningly saccharine. It makes me want to vomit. The thought of his lips touching hers... It's gonna make me go nuts.

And the jealousy will drive you... will drive you... mad!

Ugh. I knew I shouldn't have watched Casey's favorite movie last night... But, then again, she did totally make out with me last night. And it does count, okay, even if she doesn't remember. I haven't forgotten that it happened. She can't make me. I mean, I've forgotten a lot of things, like what happened at Lynn's party... I was kinda drunk that night. No parental supervision and an open bar... plus Sam and Casey's hook-up the night before and my exhausting hockey game that day... Equals a wasted Derek.

I don't remember what happened, exactly. I just remember that both Lynn and Laurie dumped me ('cause they found out about each other). Hmm, and I remember Amy driving me home really late at night. I'm pretty sure I had a blast and made out with a lot of very willing girls. Not Suzanne, though. I wish I remembered that. I remember some girls that I think I... Not the point.

All I really remember was that I was sore all over... My head from the hangover, my body from hockey and, uh, the night's revels... Whatever those may have been. It's funny. Dad and Nora didn't even notice. But he did get a two on that knowing your kids test. I can't exactly blame him. I just can't believe he doesn't know Edwin's birthday... That's just plain sad. I mean, Lizzie knows it and she's known him for... not very long.

Anyways, not the point. The point is that if they don't stop making out, I'm going to do something stupid and crazy. Not that that's not saying much. Fortunately enough for me, Sammykins got up, claiming he wanted a snack. Casey was giggling like an idiot. Great, now I wanted to smack her too.

She sighed dreamily and then resumed staring at the screen. Just in time to catch a glimpse of the scariest part in the whole movie. I wasn't fazed, but Casey turned white. Her lip trembled... And then, to my great surprise, she launched herself at me, burying her head in my stomach. She knocked the wind out of me.

For a moment I did nothing. I didn't react... I couldn't react. I was kind of... uh, flummoxed. So I just sat there for a second. Then I realized how rare an opportunity like this was, so I wrapped my arm around her and just... relaxed for a while. I realized that Sam was there, yes... And I realized that he wasn't going to be snacking forever, sure... And I knew he was going to come back, definitely. I just... Um, didn't think it'd be uh, so soon, you know?

Okay, so I didn't want him to come back, like, ever. But he did.

Which totally ruined it for me. 'Cause he gave that clueless idiot face. That face like... Get your hands off my girlfriend! I hate that face. "Casey?" He gaped, looking somewhat appalled. Again with the "Casey?" stuff? That ruined the first moment.

And, as predicted, Casey recognized the voice and shot up like a rabbit on crack. It would've been entertaining if I didn't like her, remember? She began blinking rapidly, biting her lip and stumbling over her words. "Sam! Oh, I'm... I'm s-so s-s-sorr-rry. I was just... The movie... It-t, it, uh, um... s-scared me. A lot... And, umm, D-derek was-s there... And it was really just g-geo-g-graphic con-convenience because if you had been here I would've done the same thing to you, you know? And, uh, um... There's n-no-nothing g-going on. You d-don't have to worry!" Casey stuttered nervously. Her voice was high and sorta squeaky with panic.

Sam was oddly cool about the whole thing... I mean, considering how he was before. He just smiled reassuringly at Casey and waved it off like it was nothing. To him, maybe... But he was wrong. It's not nothing, Sammy. I'm going to steal your girlfriend, and, well, tough luck. Because I always get what I want.

Enough said.

That being said, this might be just a bit harder than I anticipated.

You see, normally, if Sam and I liked the same girl, I would just tell him and he'd back off. Or I'd steal the girl behind his back. But I can't do that with Casey without coming off as a total ass. I'd convince Sam to dump her, but really, I'd look like an asshole. I am, but really...It's sad how I have such sway over Sam... I can control him soo easily. That's why Sam's pathetic. He's a wuss.

"Chill, Case. It's cool. I mean, why would there be anything going on between you and Derek? You're like... stepsiblings. Male Code or not, that's wrong. I mean, come on... Derek isn't into girls like you anyways, are you, man?" Sam explained, plopping down unto the couch, food in hand. Great... He asking me a question? Oh, well, at least I'm a good liar. I rolled my eyes at him, like he was stupid for even considering it.

He is stupid... but for not considering it. He thinks I have more scruples than I actually do. How sad. With that, Casey buried her face in Sam's shirt for a while. I thought she was asleep for a moment. She wasn't.

Because a moment after that she sorta started making out with him again. I had to excuse myself to well, to just get out of the room... Have some air. Collect myself. When I got back, Casey was asleep on top of Sam. Great, just what I needed to see. So Sam stayed for a little while longer, only until the movie ended. I'd had enough of Sam for the night.

Sam took care to slip out from under Casey, ensuring that he didn't wake her. What he didn't realize, of course, is that Casey could sleep through an earthquake. But he hasn't slept with Casey, so... You can interpret that however you want to. I mean in the dirty way, of course.

He just stood there awkwardly for a while, shifting from foot to foot. He was staring at me, darting nervous looks around the room. I turned, annoyed, to face him... after he'd been doing that for like ten minutes. I rolled my eyes... Friends. The poor boy cleared his throat to talk, looking a little green. "Hey, Derek, can you do me a favor?"

The warning bells went off in my head almost immediately. But I shrugged and tried to play it cool. Ten bucks says it involves Casey... I'll make out with her for free, of course. I shrugged, purposefully not looking at him. "That depends on what _kind_ of favor," I muttered, almost to myself. There are some things I just will not do. I mean, there has to be something in it for me in the first place. I am an opportunistic person, enough said... Hey, I never claimed to be altruistic!

Maybe that would make Casey like me...

Make Casey like me? What am I on? I shouldn't have to make her do anything. She should like me of her own volition... Wait, why am I so concerned with her liki... No. That's not... That's stupid. I sound like some pathetic guy. And Derek Venturi is anything but pathetic...

"It's about Casey..." Sam began hesitantly. How did I know? Great, Casey... What about Casey? I'm getting kind of sick of Casey, really. Thinking about her all the time just wears on a man, you know? I mean, I'm halfway to insanity already.

I shrugged once again, eyes never straying from the screen. I do have a rep to keep up, after all. Not looking at him helps me avoid killing him. Which is always a plus, as the 'rents are away. "So... What about her?" I grunted, trying to sound uncaring. I failed miserably, but Sam doesn't know me well enough to tell the difference. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've known the kid since I was five... He's my best friend. But he sucks at lying... and he's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I'm saying...

"I know that you don't like her..." Sam stated simply. I interrupted before he could finish. Ah, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy... If only you knew how wrong you were... Too bad you don't. Oh well, more fun for me. Really, it's surprising all that you don't know. But that's a story for another day. I'd only tell you to gloat, of course.

I looked over at him, trademark Derek smirk on my face. This time I did know something he didn't. "To say the least," I muttered supposedly under my breath. I knew he was going to hear it, of course. Then I had to be stupid and continue on. It was all lies of course. I mean, if I really hated her, I wouldn't want to nail her... Okay, so maybe I would. But, here's the thing... I want to do more than just jump her, you know? Which, well, sorta freaks me out. "I hate her with every fiber of my being... What's your point?" I drawled casually, as if I said stuff like that on a daily basis... Except for the tiny little fact that I don't hate Casey... Not even close.

Sam nodded, giving me a wary look. He looked like a rabbit who wanted to bolt. "I'm going to go now..." Jeez, man, can you state the obvious any more than you are there? I don't think that's possible.

I glanced over at him, rolling my eyes irritably. "Well, duh. So why're you still hanging around here?" I retorted a bit more sharply than I intended. I want some alone time with Casey too, you know... A lot.

"I was wondering if you could help her to bed for me." Okay, has Sammy boy lost his mind here? I mean, he does realize who he's talking to, right? Me, Derek Venturi, babe magnet. Me! I mean, does he think I'm not going to do something about it? I can honestly tell you that I can't think of any guy who would ask me that... To put their girlfriend to bed for me. It's like dangling a big, juicy steak in front of a fasting monk. It's just not done.

And I actually like this one... So I'm even more gung-ho about it. I smirked at him. If only you knew, Sammy. "You know, there aren't many guys who would ask me... trust me... to do that," I replied evenly, briefly glancing over at Sam. He, being an idiot, missed out on the tension in my voice. I'm not having any moral quandaries about this. It's a competition now, and I intend to win.

Sam rolled his eyes, snorting. "You are such a pervert," He muttered, amused. He wasn't surprised, of course. He has, after all, played Babe Raider with me. But I'm afraid our dear Sammy doesn't get the point of the game. The point would be the sex appeal. But Sam, ever a pansy, claims it challenges his mind. Blah, blah, blah... Empowers women, all that feminist bull. He says he just likes playing. I swear, he rolls his eyes at every comment I make. That's why I like playing with Edwin better.

This time, I snorted. "You know, your girlfriend said the same thing the other day," I grunted, bored. When is he going to leave already? Man, this movie really sucks. Sam has crappy taste. Ick. I wouldn't even take Victoria to this flick, and she's sorta easy...

Sam grinned. That dopey lovestruck look was on his face again. He is such a moron! Love is stupid. It makes normally sane people act like total idiots... But I think I'm giving Sam a bit too much credit here. He wasn't exactly that bright to start out with. I mean, sure, he gets higher grades than me, but that doesn't mean much... Almost everyone is. Getting better grades doesn't mean you're smarter...

Because Sam is so oblivious that it's laughable. I mean, I know Casey thinks he's the sun, the moon, and the stars, but really, what's so great about him? I mean, he's a dope, a wuss, and he wears a ski-cap all the time. He's like a blonde, blue-eyed, innocent version of me. Oh, with feminist views that he can't even talk to me about. He can't stand up to me. What man can't stand up to his best friend?

"Yeah? So, does that mean you'll do it?" Sam asked anxiously, a hopeful tone in his voice. He sounded a bit desperate and more than a little pathetic, but that wasn't particularly new information. I resisted the urge to tell him to cram it, sighing. His sincere act was really starting to bother me. He's so sincere it's phony. Ugh, it makes me sick.

I tried to be calm, cool, collected. I shrugged apathetically. "It doesn't mean I won't..." I grunted, leaning back into the couch.

Sam's eyes grew wide and bright with excitement. Well, gee, isn't he Mr. Cheerful? I hate people like that. "Does that mean you're okay with it?" He chirped, and he sounded so happy it almost pained me. I felt guilty for like... a second. I hate feeling guilty. I mean, I know it's a new feeling, but it just... sucks. Completely ruins my futile attempts at having fun.

I made a dismissive hand gesture, waving it off and focusing my eyes on that god-awful movie. I swear, if he gets any happier, I'm gonna hit him! "Yeah, sure, whatever... I did it last night anyways," I said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. I was hoping maybe my ease would freak him a little. Apparently my little plan worked.

"Did what last night?" Sam's tone was a little sharper than before. He didn't sound as happy as before. I beamed inwardly at the thought. Man, I am such a bad friend. He sounded a bit suspicious and more than a little curious. It's weird, man... One minute you're worrying, the next you aren't.

I smirked as the words came to me. "Casey..." I drawled lazily, sounding very self-satisfied. I was dying to see Sam's reaction. If I recall correctly, his eyes bugged out, his jaw dropped, and he was the very picture of surprise. It was hilarious, but I was actually surprised he took me seriously. I mean, I'm a bit of a notorious joker, and I don't really talk about having sex with Sam the Virgin. I let my grin widen as I started to laugh.  
"Just kidding."

Sam glared at me, not as amused as I was by the entire situation. What, did he think there was an actual chance that I would've screwed Casey last night? I mean, if I screwed Casey, do you honestly think I'd be bragging to her boyfriend about it? Obviously not. It is an interesting concept, though. "That was so funny I forgot to laugh... So, are you going to do it or not?" Sam queried impatiently. I think I might've pissed him off. Oh well, that's just too damn bad, now isn't it?

I rolled my eyes at him, focusing on the movie, feeling irritated. Why am I doing Sam favors in the Casey department? I mean, yeah, okay, whatever, I probably would've done this anyways, but... whatever. I groaned, seeing Sam's oh-so moronic face staring at me eagerly. I couldn't take it anymore, so I turned to face him, answering sharply, "I will, okay? Jeez, just go, man... I'll get her in bed after this movie..." I turned back to the movie, waving him off, realizing exactly how it had sounded. Uh, oops?

Not. Bet that pissed little Sammykins off. Well, he deserves it, the moron. "What did you say?" Sam asked in an eerily calm yet somewhat threatening tone. Bit of an oxymoron, I know, but true as hell. I rolled my eyes. Can you say bipolar? His mood changes at the drop of a hat. Honestly. I mean, one second he's jealous, the next he's not threatened. It's like... make up your mind!

I glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow, still smirking. Ah, the perpetual smirk. So fun. "And you say _I'm_ the pervert?" I retorted smoothly. Sam rolled his eyes, like I was the crazy one here.

"Bye, dude." And then, a few seconds later, I heard the door shut behind him. Grinning wildly, I got up and locked it, making my way back to the couch. Okay, so the movie still sucked and now they'd killed off the only hot chick in it. Damnit.

Speaking of hot girls... Casey was still wearing her party costume, complete with killer boots. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Key word being seemed... She frowned in her sleep and started feeling around for something (methinks it was Sam). And then suddenly she was, um, uh, kinda touching me in a place she shouldn't have... unless she was conscious. Luckily for me, she moved her hand and sort of leaned against me with this really cute smile on her face.

I don't know why, but I suddenly realized that I was smiling for no reason at all. And, before I knew what I was doing, I leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. What's happening to me? Why'd I do that? I mean, I like her and everything, but why am I acting like a total sap? I'm not a sap. I never kiss anyone on the forehead except Marti, and she's my sister.

Then again, so is Casey... Bad thoughts, Derek. Bad thoughts. Remember, Casey is not your sister. She is your **step**sister. See the difference? Yeah? Well, good. Memorize it and don't ever call her your sister again, okay?

Does this mean that I'm actually thinking of her as a sister? That would be too warped. Way too warped for even my mind to comprehend. You know, a drink sounds really good right now. Wonder where Dad hid the keys to the liquor cabinet?

Bad, D. You do not want to get drunk around Casey. You are sure to do something completely, totally, utterly, 100 stupid... and crazy and dumb and every other word for idiotic moron you can think of. It's bound to happen, and you won't stop it.

Like kissing her... You would be dumb enough to try that. Never while she's in her right mind, D. Never. You need to keep your wits about you, or you'll lose your fragile sense of control over your... feelings, libido, emotions, sex drive... Pick one. I mean, I need every brain cell I've got for this, and that's not a lot! Because everything in me wants to, but I know... It's not going to work. Not now.

Why'd I have to like Casey, of all people? Casey! That's like... insane. You know, it is driving me insane. I mean, here I am, talking to myself again. Let's just keep things safe, okay? Watch the dumbass movie.

I tried to watch the movie, really I did, but it didn't draw my interest. I kept looking over and realizing that I was, once again, staring at Casey. I swear, I got so frustrated I wanted to smack myself. Wait... I am losing it! I can't stare at her like some idiot. I have some class. I mean, there are some things even I refuse to do. And looking like a fool is one of those things, 'mmmkay?

Before I knew it, I was... hehe... fantasizing. Which is okay, because it's familiar territory. Even, yes, with Casey. Honestly, I've been imagining Casey since... before the wedding, okay? Says a lot, doesn't it? Ever since I first saw her. I flirted ridiculously, I swear. She wasn't into it. She just... hated me then. I mean, not as much as now, but still... I gave it up, but I still thought about what it would be like, you know?

Still am. So I was practically drooling. I decided to get up, but Casey looked so peaceful that I couldn't move. Damn these irrational sensibilities. So I decided to close my eyes for a second or two before helping her to bed. I was just so tired.

After all, what's the harm in closing my eyes... It's not like I'm going to fall asleep or anything. No, of course not. That would be stupid, which I'm not...

So I'll just close my eyes for a second. Big deal. It's not like anything will happen anyways.

- Loren ;

Love you guys!


	10. Temporary Insanity

Okay, just a random author's note... I was watching The Breakfast Club, which is like... one of my favorite movies of all time. I can quote lines from it... I've seen it like a gazillion times. Anyways, NEVER watch the censored version. Seriously. It blows.They change the weirdest stuff, like this line about jock-straps to socks... And "Eat my shorts" becomes "Eat my socks". I mean, hey, if Bart Simpson can say it on network TV, then why can't John Bender? Which I was like... That's effed up. Oh, and then they changed this scene where Bender yells "F You!" to like... "Fill/Dill You!" And I was like... what the crap? You can so tell too, when they change it, because the voice is different... I mean, it's on at like... eleven. I think most of the kiddies have gone to bed.

But then again, a few years back, a kid who couldn't have been more than six told me to F myself... So, whatever... Anyways, I'll stop before I start raving about how hot Judd Nelson is in this movie, 'cause he's old enough to be my dad (actually, he's younger than my dad, but my dad's old)... And, eww.

If you gave me enough time, I could ramble on about how I was pissed that Allison got a makeover because she shouldn't have to change, or how I hate Claire and Bender together, or how I just really don't like Andrew at all... But hey... You aren't, so I'm shutting it and getting to the actual story...

Or, really, my rambling about this chapter of said actual story... Anyways, it's really weird, when you're writing a chapter and... an idea just takes over sometimes and writes itself. So something you didn't even plan to write comes out and the entire chapter changes (which happened the entire process, from the story about C's dad to the shocker ending). And that's kind of what happened with this chapter. It starts hot, then gets sad, and it's weird...

Anyways, this chapter is **very** personal to me. You can obviously tell I love raspberries... So, oddly enough, I'm dedicating this chapter to my dad, for being the best dad ever (which is weird considering the other content of this chapter)... Anyways, I'm gonna tell you now, it's a bit of a tearjerker... Uh, I think? It's my longest yet, and about twenty pages with an ending that shocked even yours truly. Then again, I wrote it at five in the morning... Yes, I realize that D/C are probably more than a little OOC, but Derek's uh, delirious sorta, and Casey was just ragin'. But hey, it makes for excellent drama.

Obviously I don't own LWD or any of the characters contained therein. Nor do I own the song "Temporary Insanity" from whence the chapter gets it's name and is featured in said chapter... It's by The Weekend, and I highly recommend it. Anyways, I worked hard (HARD) on this chapter, stayin' up late, so you best give me some reviews, fool! Nah, JK, you don't have to, but they'd be appreciated, and, well, I try to entertain. I'm tryin' not to be cocky, but I haven't slept and I KNOW it's good... Totally review worthy and I've kept people (coughHEATHERANDKRYSTLEcough) in suspense... This time, I actually do. In fact, this is now MY favorite chapter.

Anyways, I'm gonna shut up now 'fore I pull a Casey. Enjoy, and, remember, review!

* * *

I awoke slowly, feeling warm and contented. My eyes opened, and for a moment, I blinked at my surroundings, confused. I realized a moment later that I had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. To my relief, the movie was over now, and the screen was a flickering blue. My eyes glanced briefly at the clock. The red, digital light flashed 2:59 three times, and then it slowly turned 3:00. I flexed my shoulders, which felt a little stiff, deciding to get up and turn it off. And, I noted, maybe change? I was, after all, still wearing the clothes from the party. Maybe I ought to properly go to bed. 

However, I was stopped by a hand around my waist. I blinked, once again confused, and glanced down at the familiar hand, a warm weight around my waist. I smiled lazily, sliding my hand over his. I guess Sam fell asleep on the couch with me. That's nice...

Hmm, I wonder where Derek is... He doesn't seem like the type who'd be okay with this. No, on second thought, he isn't the type at all! But, you know what, why am I thinking about Derek? I should be doing something... productive.

Like thinking of Sam... Whom I love very much... Mm, Sam... I ought to wake him up, Sleeping Beauty that he is, with a kiss. Mmm, that sounds nice. Sighing softly with contentment, I closed my eyes, feeling blissfully warm, and carefully turned over to face my love. He's so warm and strong... I snuggled up to him, inhaling his scent.

Only he smells different than usual. I wonder why... He smells like Derek. But there has to be a reason for that. They probably use the same cologne... sometimes. You know, Derek was sitting here before. That must be it. I'm overreacting. So I can just... kiss Sam and forget all my troubles. Mmm, yeah, that sounds good.

Feeling a smile curving on my lips, I leaned over a little further, eyes still closed. I moved my head up, reaching out blindly for him with my hands. I found his face, his beautiful angelic face, and I ran my hands down his cheeks softly, dragging my fingers, so I could remember the feeling of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones forever. I love Sam so much... He's so perfect.

I leaned up and gently touched my lips to his. I felt a slow smile spread across his lips. He tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me closer, if at this point that was even possible. My heartbeat sped up; my pulse raced. I was floating, and his kisses left me breathless. Everywhere he touched me I was on fire. My thoughts were racing at a million miles a second; my mind was clouded. He kissed me deeper and deeper... And I couldn't do a thing but kiss him back.

His lips assaulted mine, kissing me bruisingly. I didn't care, though... Not one iota. I only smiled and pulled him closer. His tongue grazed my lips, and I moaned, opening my mouth further against his. He had never kissed me like this before... Not once.

I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, running a hand through his hair. This time he moaned and leaned over, pushing me flat against the couch. He was flat against me, and his hands ran up and down my sides. I sighed breathlessly and wrapped my leg around his, writhing underneath him. He slid his hand up the back of my shirt, caressing my back. His touch burned my skin, searing my senses. I made small noises of contentment involuntarily, flattening myself against the couch.

His hand slid up the soft leather of my miniskirt and then slid back down again. He repeated this simple motion again and again until it was driving me wild. Then his oh-so skilled hands gently moved up my skirt, caressing the warm flesh of my lower thigh. My heart beat still faster. I broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and my eyelids fluttered open and closed as I caught my breath. He backed away a little before bending down to kiss my neck.

His lips were moist and smooth against my flushed skin. He devoured my skin hungrily, and I moaned, exhaling hard. I trailed my hand down his chest, and he sighed, returning his lips to mine. I didn't mind.

He kissed me harder and more passionately. I ran my hand through his messy hair. Hmm, he wasn't wearing his hat... Weird. But I guess he took it off... Why am I obsessing on- Ooh, that feels nice! And that... Oh, who knew he could do that? His hands feel so... good and warm... And, oh... Just when I thought I couldn't love him anymore.

I have to tell him how I feel. It's only right, after all. And he'll probably say it back.

Oh, god, what happens if he doesn't say it back? If he doesn't feel the same way I do? What... What happens then?

I don't know, but I should at least find out. I owe myself that, at least.

So I pushed him back a little, and I could feel his hungry lips only millimeters away from mine, longing to be closer, closer... And I wanted his lips closer, closer... to mine. But, even though it took all the willpower in me to do it, I held him back, opening my eyes and glancing down nervously. "I love you," I whispered just loud enough so that he could hear.

He answered my unspoken question by roughly pulling me against him and kissing me more passionately than he ever had, even only moments before. And that was how I knew... How I knew that the feelings were mutual, even without him saying that. We didn't need words.

We just let our actions dominate the day. Or should I say night? Then again, it was mor... Oh, that feels good! His lips were so much softer than they looked. I wonder how many girls he's kissed? It sure feels like he's had a lot of experience at this... But why am I thinking about that... It doesn't matter.

What matters is that he's here with me now. Just me and Sam all alone. I mean, sure, Derek's in the house, but he's probably asleep or doing some slut. Not that I care or anything. It's just gross, disgusting, and demeaning to women. Not to mention that it reflects badly on the family, having your oldest child being a total whore...

His body was, once again, flush against mine. His mouth sought out mine and devoured it as if there was no tomorrow. He pressed lightly against me, as if he was afraid that I would break from bearing too much of his weight on my narrow frame. I wasn't glass, and I wouldn't break anytime soon, but... I loved him all the more for it... So considerate, so caring, so sweet... so very protective and warm. My dream man, my soul mate, my love, love, love...

His teeth trailed a little too roughly across my lips, and I responded by biting his. I felt him smile against my lips and push me harder into the couch, letting his hands wander. One hand was halfway up the back of my shirt, calloused yet smooth hands on my bare back. His fingers moved in circular patterns on my taught back, nails lightly dragging across my skin. His touch inflamed my skin, and I felt it... a dull burn all over my skin, buzzing underneath the flesh, making me antsy with anticipation. I felt flushed, weak, and breathless. My desire for him was heightening exponentially. He made me like this, and I liked being this way, feeling happy, for once.

He tasted different than usual. Usually he tasted minty, like he'd just eaten a mint (he had, most of the time). I mean, sure, I like mint just as much as the next girl... However, after a while, it gets sort of old. You know, it's kind of like he's trying too hard sometimes. Well, I mean, there was that time I kissed him after he ate that chili dog... Ew. Most of the rest of the time he tastes... sweet. You know, like candy and bubblegum. And yet, today he tastes different...

He tastes more... bittersweet. More real, somehow... I'm not making much sense here, but it's driving me crazy... He tastes like one of those muggy summer days when you can taste the humidity in the air. He tastes like the beads of chlorinated water that roll down your face as you step out of the pool. He tastes like iced tea, watered-down soda, and too-sweet lemonade when you're tanning in the sun. He tastes like a sip of Grandpa's bourbon, bitter, burning, and smooth... He tastes like that slice of lime that explodes in your mouth, so sour you can't believe it. But, most of all, he tastes like fresh, juicy raspberries... and heartbreak.

We used to live in a condo, but I remember back when Daddy was alive. We lived way out in the suburbs around Toronto, at this huge house where the grass was lush and verdant. There was a garden in the back with every kind of fruit and vegetable you could imagine. We had it all, a little bit of everything. Tomatoes, corn, potatoes, celery, peas, carrots, cherries, apples, lemons, strawberries, peaches, blackberries, eggplant, apricots, pears, and... raspberries.

Daddy loved raspberries, so I loved them too. Sometimes, in the summer, if it was nice enough outside, my daddy would take the day off and stay home with me and Lizzie. Monday was his day off. We would all go swimming first. Daddy would do a cannonball that upset about half the water in the pool and drenched us all to the bone. Then he would watch Lizzie and me dive. Then, smelling like chlorine and shivering, we would all trudge back into the air-conditioning and change back into our regular clothes.

Daddy would make us lunch, which was usually sandwiches and soda. He made himself an egg sandwich, and gave me a peanut butter one (I was a picky eater back then, and I hated jelly) and Lizzie one with jelly too. Sometimes I would ask him to make me an egg sandwich too because I wanted to be just like him. I loved him so much back then. I haven't had an egg sandwich since that summer of my tenth year. And then he would make tea. It was Lipton's, and he liked it iced, in big, flimsy plastic glasses... the kind you get at drive-through places. Daddy loved burger joints and fast food. He would always pour about a cup of sugar in his tea, so it would taste just right.

Then he'd slice a lemon and throw one or two slices in. When the weather permitted, we would go eat our lunch outside on our wooden deck. There was this black, lattice-y sort of table out there with these matching chairs. Daddy would smile radiantly at Lizzie and me, eating his lunch, like we were the best things that had ever happened to him. And we would stare adoringly back, so he wouldn't notice when we stole sips from his tea. Hours later, we'd get up, imprints of the chair on our legs, our skin red from the hot metal. I miss those lazy days so much now...

I didn't know how good I had it...

But the best days by far were when he let us pick the raspberries. Daddy would go out every morning, looking for ripe ones. So we took to waking up early to go out with him. He woke up sometimes even before the sun did to go to work... Every morning, it seemed, there was an early morning meeting. I think those meetings were just an excuse for my dad to talk to the guys and eat donuts, but whatever. Sometimes he brought us back donuts too... Cake donuts for me, glazed ones for Lizzie. He knew what we liked.

Daddy loved raspberries, but he loved lots of things... Mom, stupid nicknames (both for himself and others... Sometimes he called Mom stupid things like No and Norey...), burgers, French fries, steak, potatoes, Mom's cooking, grilling, donuts, tea, Coke, Mexico, football, baseball... He abhorred hockey, the national pastime. I remember how he frowned and complained when the ice melted in his Coke. It was so cute...

Daddy loved raspberries, so we loved raspberries. We loved the feeling of being able to go out and spend time with him. It seems like we spent most of our childhood sharing Daddy with other people, so we made use of every spare second we had with him... Mom was so jealous sometimes.

We picked raspberries last, late in the afternoon, after we had already watched a rented movie and some cartoons. He would scrutinize those raspberries so carefully, eyeballing them from every direction to judge if they were dirty, rotten, or buggy (few ever were, as we ate them so fast). He would poke some of them, and red juice would drip down on his pointer finger. He would then stick his finger in his mouth, mulling over the taste for a minute before deciding whether to pick the berry or not. Sometimes, randomly, he would grab a berry, either out of one of our baskets or off the bush, and pop it into his mouth. "To test if it's poison," He would say with a wicked grin.

It was never poisonous, of course. He just liked eating them sporadically. Except Daddy ate a lot of raspberries. We ate a lot of raspberries too. So, after hours of sorting through our many raspberry brambles, we would stumble wearily back into the house, bellies full, dinners spoiled; lips, tongues, and fingers ruby red from the juice. Our baskets were only half-full at best.

Then we would all collapse on the couch, Daddy in the middle, with Lizzie on the left, taking up less space, and me on his right, resting our heads on his chest. He would cover us with this old blanket, and we would all fall asleep... And that was how Mom found us.

I remember one day, I was tired, so I didn't get up to go check the raspberries with him. I had been to my very first sleepover the night before, and I hadn't gotten much sleep. Daddy even came to wake me up, but I shouted at him, and he thought I looked so adorable that he just let me sleep in. I wish I hadn't been lazy that day. I wish I had gotten up. I slept most of that day and missed the raspberry picking.

I didn't even see him at all for most of the next day. Our babysitter was watching us. My parents knew all the best babysitters in town through work (friends' children). Lizzie went over to a friend's house that day. Daddy always came home around four, so the babysitter had already left by three-thirty. She figured I would be okay alone for about thirty minutes... Well, she thought wrong!

I was up at my window, looking for any sign of Daddy's car in the street. I wanted to see him desperately to tell him about my day. I had my first crush ever... Some kid I'd met in the city when Tammy had taken us to the library... I don't even remember his name now. I also wanted to tell him that I'd finished one of those Wishbone books in an actual minute, a new record! I had a stack of books as tall as I am now sitting there by my bed, and I was yearning to ask Daddy to read one to me. I knew ten was old enough to read by yourself, but I still wanted Daddy to read to me. He never read to me anymore.

Then I saw his car, and I felt a surge of happiness. I flew down the stairs, running through the house, blindly focusing on my goal of getting to Daddy. I went out the door into the garage and opened the garage door hurriedly. I charged at it, ducking down so I could get underneath it, and I didn't stop running.

There was Daddy. He'd parked his car and was now opening the door. He got out, briefcase in hand, and smiled when he saw me. I smiled back so widely my entire face was lit up, and I stopped running, just standing there, staring at him. I was so incandescently happy to see him that I didn't notice the man until it was too late.

The man snuck up behind Daddy. He didn't see me, frozen there in the driveway, a silent witness. He grabbed Daddy, made him turn around to look at him. He was shaky, jumpy, and nervous. Erratic. His eyes darted left and right, up and down. His hands were shaking as he slowly held up a gun, shouting at my Daddy to hold up his hands.

Daddy's face went white. His brow furrowed, and he looked so much older. He didn't even look at me, and that hurt then, but now I know why. He didn't want the guy to notice him staring into space and see me. Even when a gun was being pointed at his head, he thought of me...

The man started yelling at Dad, waving the gun about like a madman, which I suppose he was. It was something about a job and money. I recognized him; he worked with Daddy... for Daddy? I don't remember now. Daddy pleaded and begged with the man. He said he'd done all he could, that he couldn't help. Then the man cursed Daddy out, said he could. Daddy said the same thing he'd said before, that he'd tried, but he couldn't do anything. He asked the man to calm down. He said if he just left, he would forget all about it, not even file a report. Daddy said he knew this man was good deep down, that he didn't have it in him to do it, that he didn't want to be a murderer.

Daddy was wrong.

I was frozen... I didn't really realize what was going on at first. I was too young to really understand. But I thought that Daddy had it all under control. Daddy always had everything under control. He was my rock, the glue that held all of us together. He was my strength, my protector... I believed in him. Daddy thought he had it all under control too.

He was wrong. So wrong it hurts.

All of a sudden, I don't know what... Something made the man go nuts. His finger pulled the trigger. BANG! The small round shaft of the bullet looked like a little rock. I didn't actually think it would hurt Daddy. I just thought it would bounce off, not even leaving a bruise.

I was wrong. So wrong it hurts.

The bullet crashed square into Daddy's chest, and I watched in horror as red blossomed out from around the hole, permanently staining his pure white dress shirt. My world shattered in that instant. I don't remember thinking. I don't remember breathing. I remember screaming.

"**_DADDY!_**"

I have never screamed that loud in my life, and I hope I never will again. It was a heartbreaking scream. You could feel the rawness of my throat afterwards. You could hear the sobs in my voice. The man did too. He saw me, he stared, in horror, and he ran... He ran away like the coward he was. I ran too, but towards Daddy. Daddy had fallen to the ground and was laying there, bleeding.

I scrambled to remember what I could do. I wanted to hug him, but I was afraid... Afraid he would...

He groaned and groped around in his jacket pocket for his cellphone. He was wearing a nice black suit that day. Daddy always wore suits to the office. He wore sweats when he was playing tennis or racquetball; he wore khakis and jeans with polo shirts at home or on outings, he wore t-shirts and shorts to bed. Finally, he wore his leather jacket to his morning meetings at Denny's; he always came home smelling like cigarettes. Daddy hated cigarettes. Granny had smoked profusely until the dementia had set in.

He handed me the cellphone, pressing it between my hands urgently. I bit my trembling lip, roughly flinging the phone open. It was with shaky fingers that I dialed 9-1-1. I told them in a weak, wavering voice how Daddy had been shot and gave them our address, urging them to hurry, telling them he needed medical care. Then I put the phone down, not even bothering to hang up... It's amazing how little stuff like that doesn't matter in such times.

I applied pressure to the wound gently to stem the bleeding, as I had been taught in Girl Scouts. But I was terrified and quivering like a leaf in the wind. I didn't really know what to do but wait.

There was so much blood. I didn't see how I could stop it all, but I had to try. I don't think I tried hard enough...

I tried to keep him calm by rambling, telling him pointless stories, anything I could think of, even bad things I had done. I tried to keep him conscious like the 911 lady had said, but it didn't work.

Daddy was fading, and fast. I couldn't do anything about it, anything to stop it.

The tears streamed down my face, but I didn't feel them. I just kept whispering how much I loved him, over and over and over again.

And then he sat up a little, opening his eyes, obviously in an excruciating pain. He groaned, hurt, and I fought back a sob. He looked me straight in the eye and I forced myself to blink back the tears so I could get a proper look at him, so I could remember him forever. He looked me deep in the eyes and wiped away my tears gently.

"Casey, you've got to be strong for me. You've got to take care of your mom and your little sister for me. And I know that's a big job for such a little girl, but I know you can do it. You can do anything. Tell your mother and your sister that I love them... I always will. And, Case, never forget how much I love you... How much I will always love you..." Daddy pleaded, his own eyes tearing up.

Then he kissed me on the forehead, and I felt his stubble against my face. No matter how much Dad shaved, he still felt all prickly. I used to complain about that, but now... I miss it. "I promise, Daddy," I murmured in a shaky whisper, feeling my voice break.

Daddy moved his lips away, instead leaning his forehead against mine, staring at me with those wide blue eyes... my eyes... The ones I inherited from him. "Now it's time to say goodbye, Casey..." Daddy said in a low, throaty voice, so low I could barely hear him at all. My eyes filled with tears again.

"I won't say it!" I shrieked, feeling suddenly angry. "Don't talk like that! You aren't going to..." I couldn't finish that sentence, even if I wanted to.

I was wrong again, and it hurt. This was the most unkind cut of all.

Daddy slowly leaned back down, so that he was laying on the driveway. He didn't say anything else. He just lay back down and slowly closed his eyes, squeezing my hand with the last remnants of his strength. I saw the energy gradually fade out of him. He took his last gasping breaths, which slowly relaxed into nothingness. His heartbeat grew weaker and weaker until I could no longer feel it beating beneath my hands. His warm hands became ice cold, and his normally flushed skin turned pale. He was stiff and motionless.

All motion had ceased. I couldn't breathe. The light of my young life had flickered out and... died... right before my very own eyes. My world had shattered when he was shot, but now it just broke, collapsing into a wreck of twisted, broken glass around me.

I started sobbing hysterically, wishing I had told him I loved him instead of yelling. "I love you, I love you, I love you..." I whispered; I cried; I screamed; I sobbed; I raged... a thousand times. I don't remember much after that. The paramedics found me less than a foot away, leaning against the tire of his car, curled up in a ball, rolling back and forth, hiccuping. My hands were covered in his blood.

It took us all a while for the truth to sink in... that Daddy was dead. D-E-A-D, dead. I didn't even talk until hours after it happened, around midnight. I told Mom and the police officer everything. I couldn't stop crying. Lizzie and Mom too.

I cried myself to sleep that night and woke up in my bed wearing one of Daddy's shirts as I had always done. It still smelled like him. I was exhausted, but nonetheless rose at the crack of dawn to go outside and check on the raspberries.

I think a part of me thought if I went out there, he'd still be there, sniffing the berries, and making funny faces at me. But a part of me knew... Knew that he wouldn't be there, and that it would hurt. The raspberries weren't even out there anymore.

There had been a huge thunderstorm, and all the raspberries had been drenched, washed away in the deluge, battered and broken, ripped and torn, like me and my family. Little bits of raspberries were everywhere, but it didn't matter... They were completely destroyed and no one could put them back together again.

There was only one lonely little raspberry left.

I plucked it carefully off the brambles, which lay in shambles, and placed it in my mouth, not chewing on it, letting the taste sink into my tongue... So maybe, I would... could... always remember it. Always remember him... But, the truth was, I felt like the raspberry... all alone. The tears ran down my face again, more rapidly this time. I couldn't stop. I missed him so much it was killing me inside and now I didn't even have his raspberries anymore.

And that's why raspberries taste like heartbreak.

It was then that I knew that I wasn't kissing Sam at all.

But that was crazy, so I immediately disregarded it.

I wasn't thinking about my dad while we were making out, of course. I kind of... wasn't thinking at all. I remember fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, not even bothering to open my eyes to work on them. Had Sam been wearing a button-up shirt? I couldn't even remember. He was kissing me like there was no tomorrow, desperately.

He pushed my shirt up to right underneath my bra, and I let him. But, considering how short my shirt was, that was only an inch or two. I didn't mind... This was a forceful side of Sam I had never seen before, and I found myself liking the physicality of the whole situation. As long as he didn't think he was getting to second base or something like that.

He removed his hands from my body long enough for me to pull his shirt off. I absentmindedly, not that I had much of a mind by that point, threw it to the ground, feeling incredibly satisfied. His muscles were taut and firm against mine, and I could feel the slick sweat between our flesh. Something about this wasn't right.

But then his lips ravaged mine, and I could only moan and lay back. I couldn't even think anymore. I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and gave him an extremely passionate kiss on the lips. That, Sam, is how much I love you! This time he moaned hoarsely, "_Casey_..."

I smiled against his lips and responded by kissing him even harder, so his lips were bruising. I ran my hands up and down his chiseled chest, feeling all the rewards of playing hockey. Then I threw my arms around his back, running my nails up and down, accidentally leaving a scratch or two. If it hurt, he made no indication of it, only kissing me harder instead, pressing me harder into the couch.

I sighed contentedly as he bent down to kiss my neck again. It felt so good and so... right. I was feeling sparks all over me, head to toe, and they flew at me like jolts of electricity.

After what seemed like an eternity of kissing my neck, which felt oddly familiar, I guided his lips back up to mine. My head was dizzy from lack of oxygen, so I sought to break the kiss... and opened my eyes.

Both literally and figuratively.

My surprise was... evident. To say I was surprised was an understatement. I was... flummoxed, flabbergasted, and floored. Yes, so stunned that I can't stop speaking in alliterations! I can't believe it...

How I ignored every one of the signs that were right in front of my face, again, literally. He smelled different; he tasted different; he kissed different. He wasn't wearing the hat, but he was wearing a button-up shirt. The feelings that I wasn't kissing Sam; that this was wrong. The familiarity of his kisses on my neck...

Every last one of those feelings and observations was absolutely correct. And, in a strangely cruel, ironic as hell twist of fate, I realized, like Oedipus, that I too had made-out with family.

Because I wasn't kissing Sam... I was kissing Derek.

Derek Venturi. Stepbrother Derek. Most popular guy in school, Derek. Biggest whore in school, Derek. Derek, the son of my mother's husband. Derek, Derek, Derek...

And then I had an even more stunning revelation... I kissed Derek... and I liked it!

Ew! I mean, he's my stepbrother and we live in the same house and he probably has like five diseases and a gazillion notches on his bedpost or something... And I liked making out with him. Ew... I felt up my stepbrother... and I liked that too!

Oh, God... I'm so beyond screwed here... I mean, Derek? Of all people in the world, Derek?

Derek, Sam's best friend. Derek, my boyfriend's best friend. I cheated on my boyfriend, whom I love. I cheated on Sam! W-w-with... DEREK! How low can you get? I mean, he's his best friend, for starters... Plus, then there's the fact that he's my stepbrother. Oh, and when you throw in the fact that he's a total player... The insults write themselves...

Yeah, they sure like to keep it all in the family!

He has no standards at all, I mean, for crying out loud, he's banging his stepsister!

Can you say Cruel Intentions?

Well, I guess she's no ugly stepsister...

See, I'm doomed! Mark my words, this will be my ruination. Derek Venturi will be my ruination.

I think you're giving him a bit too much credit. I mean, sure, he's the bane of your existence, but he only gets be your ruination if you let him... And if we don't let him, we don't have to worry about that.

I mean, isn't this embarrassing to him too? And how could he not know he was kissing me? I mean, I was here and so was he and you can bet he didn't forget, so... why? Why me, of all people? Does he want a new notch on his bedpost? Because he can get that other ways than through me... Does he... A challenge? Would I be the "ultimate conquest"? Jeez, don't ever watch Cruel Intentions... It screws you up.

The facts remained as follows. My shirt was halfway off as it is. Derek wasn't even wearing a shirt, and it was getting progressively harder to avoid checking him out as his chest was... Right. There. In. Front. Of. Me. Derek was on top of me. His eyes were open. He'd said my name... Correction: He'd _moaned_ my name.

So Derek knew it was me he was kissing... Without a doubt, he knew. He knew, and he could've stopped it. He could've, but he didn't. He didn't... but why?

And that also meant another thing... Something that made my stomach clench up, and a cold fear run down my spine.

That also meant that I had told Derek I loved him.

I had said, "I love you", to Derek Venturi, noncommittal behavior personified, the eternal bachelor.

And he hadn't said anything at all...

He only... kissed me harder?

Now, I may not be Nancy Drew, but I know that something about that just doesn't add up. It was something big, and I intended to find out just what was up...

Derek moved his hands above my head, pushing them into the couch so he was propped up slightly. He stared down at me with a mysterious look on his face, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing... marveling at me. I felt embarrassed under his gaze, and I blushed all over. My discomfort increased with every moment that he stared at me with those eyes; those dark eyes burning holes into mine. His body pinned me to the couch, so I couldn't budge an inch.

He seemed to be thinking something over before he took a last look and leaned down. His lips were only millimeters from mine. I felt my breathing speed up rapidly. I was afraid of what might... what could... happen next. Suddenly, his warm, sweaty hands were on my bare, bruising hipbones. Whispering to me softly whilst smirking like a fiend, he closed the gap between us almost painfully slowly, "Trick or treat, Case?"

He didn't give me any time to answer; he only pressed his lips roughly against mine. Before I knew just what, exactly, it was that I was doing (making out with Derek again, just to clear anything up), I was kissing him back. My mouth opened without instruction, and in a flash his tongue was halfway down my throat. I can see now why it's the strongest muscle in the body. My eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, and my heart beat pounded loudly in my ears.

I moaned, dragging my tongue across his swollen lips, still tasting raspberries, and I pulled him flush against me. One of my hands was buried in his sweaty hair; the other clutching his back. His hands, his amazing hands, trailed up my back languidly; so slowly I barely even noticed it until they rested on top of my lacy bra. Then, so fast it left my head reeling, he managed to pull my shirt up and over my head. At first I didn't even notice.

His body was on top of mine, and I didn't feel cold. His flesh was against mine, but that wasn't new. Then I realized what had happened... How smooth was Derek? I opened my eyes, only to find myself staring unblinkingly into Derek's. His brown eyes were darker, almost black, obviously with lust. This time, there could be no denying it. But there was something about those eyes that made me shiver.

Something about that eerily primal look on his face as he pressed against me, sweaty and hungry. There was something about those eyes... They looked right through me and pierced deep into me. They were burning and accusatory... I felt so ashamed and guilty staring at him, and I didn't know why.

Well, Gee, Casey, maybe it's because you just cheated on him with oh, let's see... Your stepbrother, his best friend, and your best friend's crush. Yeah, that's why you feel guilty... Plus, you don't have feelings for him anyways. What, would it be better, more acceptable if I did? I'm in love with Sam, and that's all that matters. It's not like I actually wanted to kiss Derek...

I broke the kiss, but I didn't move. I still had to catch my breath. Derek grinned evilly, staring at me almost drunkenly through half-lidded eyes. He blinked lazily, licking his lips. His smirk widened as he noticed that I stared. "I have to give you credit, Casey. That was either a _very_ nice treat or a very well-orchestrated trick..." Derek remarked arrogantly, still hovering over me.

I rolled my eyes, groaning, and pushed him off of me. "No, Derek, **that** was me thinking you were Sam," I retorted irritably, trying to keep my cool. Derek, who had fallen on the floor, stared at me with a disbelieving look on his face. He rolled his eyes at me and snorted.

"Oh, _please_, Casey... **You** kissed me back," He pointed out, clearly annoyed that I'd stopped it. I hated the fact that he was right... That I could have stopped it. That I should have stopped it. I should've just ducked or pushed him away or something, but no, of course not... Casey likes things difficult. I pushed myself up, leaning back on my elbows, still mostly breathless.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yeah, well what kind of friend are you, kissing your best friend's girlfriend in the first place! And you can't tell me that you didn't know it was me because I _heard_ you moan my name!" I snapped irritably, absentmindedly fingering my lips. Derek smirked at the sight, and I stopped immediately.

The smirk fell off Derek's face. He looked up at me impassively and simply shrugged noncommittally. "So what? I kissed you... Big deal... It's not like I'm causing the destruction of the planet here," He muttered mockingly, rolling his eyes at me. Then he paused momentarily, and a spark flickered in his eyes. His eyes narrowed. "Anyways, what kind of _girlfriend_ are you, kissing your boyfriend's best friend? You started it in the first place... Besides, I didn't exactly see you complaining," Derek retorted sarcastically, raising his eyebrows at me.

He looked rather pointedly at my chest then, so I crossed my arms over it in an attempt to cover myself up more. I forgot, however, that doing that makes my chest look bigger. I scowled at him, sitting up so fast I was momentarily dizzy. I collected my bearings for a minute before I spoke. "I told you, I **thought** you were Sam. I didn't open my eyes until it was too late..." I stated emphatically, practically grinding my teeth.

Derek rolled his eyes, not buying it for a second. How can you not believe the truth? As if I would ever actually want to kiss him, Derek Venturi, aforementioned bane of my existence, scourge of the household... I have better taste and higher standards than that, thank you very much. "Case, you couldn't mistake me for Sam if you tried..." Derek drawled cockily, giving me a look and slowly rising to his feet.

I found my eyes wandering, and, naturally, Derek noticed. Why... how does he, how can he, always notice me noticing him? Oh, jeez, and now I sound like some cheesy Will Smith line... Great, just great! Just what I need right now! His smirk widened further. Derek continued huskily, grinning widely, "And that didn't stop you from kissing me again, now did it, Case? It didn't stop me from taking your shirt off, now, did it? No, you let me... because you wanted to."

He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair, and moved a little too close for comfort. Involuntarily, my eyes were glued to his lower abs, which flexed mid-sentence. My throat felt a little dry at the sight, and I swallowed hard. He really does have a nice pair of abs... very toned set of muscles he's got there... Derek moved still closer, looking at me in an almost predatory way. I didn't feel the least bit comfortable with that lust-filled stare on me.

"You're delusional, Derek!" I snarled sharply. Derek snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, giving me a challenging look. A slow, knowing smile curved across his lips. He came closer and immediately, I practically rocketed off the couch and into a standing position. I backed away from Derek hurriedly; it was far safer this way.

Derek didn't care, though, not in the slightest. That devilish smirk widened with each step he took towards me. Closer and closer and closer. I tried my hardest to back up and get away from him, but next thing I knew, my back was hitting the wall, and I was trapped like a rat in the corner. Can we say déjà vu? He was suddenly only inches away, and then he was sliding one of the straps of my bra down softly. "You love me, right, Casey?" Derek muttered quietly in an almost dreamy tone, leaning his head down to press a kiss to my very naked shoulder. There was a slight mocking edge in his tone, but it was barely noticeable. What was noticeable, however, was his confidence.

I tried to push him away, but it didn't work. I rolled my eyes, exasperated. "No, you **idiot**, I love SAM, my _boyfriend_!" I growled furiously. Derek backed away only a little, giving me a look. He trailed a finger down my stomach almost possessively.

"Not that you could tell from the way you were kissing _me_..." He countered smoothly, meeting my eyes. I couldn't meet his stare for long, and I knew it. Immediately, the guilt returned. Now I was misleading Derek too? Of all the unfair things to have on your conscience...

Derek shrugged, placing his hand on my shoulder and sliding it down the smooth skin of my arm. My breath hitched, and Derek grinned. "You didn't say a name..."

I didn't dignify that comment with a response... Mainly because I couldn't think of one. At that point, I could barely think at all. I struggled to think of something to say back, but I couldn't think straight... I knew one thing, though... I couldn't let Derek have the last word. "I **thought** you were Sam," I repeated stubbornly.

Derek rolled his eyes, yawning, clearly bored with the excuse. Then again, that might be because it was three-something in the morning, and we'd fallen asleep on the couch. "Yeah, because aside from the hair, the eyes, the height, the coloring, the attire, the grades, the brain, and the personality, we're _so_ similar..." Derek retorted sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. Okay, Derek, I see your point. You and Sam are different. You two are not the same person. But you do act alike...

Derek pursed his lips, looking past me for a minute, staring into the space to the left of me. Then his eyes lit up with knowledge... He had a good one coming; I was sure. His eyes suddenly focused on me, twinkling with amusement. He knew he was about to get the best of me. "If that's true, then why didn't you push me off right away the second time?" He questioned slyly.

Damn him. The little bastard knew I had no answer. His fingers trailed up and down my arm, tracing patterns of swirls and dots there. I was more than a little distracted, to say the least. So I did something incredibly stupid and blurted exactly what I was thinking. Dumb, dumb, dumb Casey...

Funny, I thought Derek was the dumb one in the family. Well, you made out with him... It's probably rubbing off on you!

"Because you're a great kisser, okay? You're better than Sam!"

I felt my jaw drop right then and there. I really, truly, wanted to smack myself. Derek's jaw dropped too, but he smiled, leaning in closer to me. "Oh, you think so, do you? I think I might have to do some more demonstration of technique..." Derek flirted in a husky voice, leaning in a little closer to me, eyes openly roving over my scantily clad form, obviously liking what he saw. His gentle hands found their way to my hips, softly rubbing them up and down. It was driving me wild.

"Care to test that hypothesis, Case?" Derek asked seductively, leaning in still further to lick my bottom lip. My eyes closed involuntarily, and I flattened myself against the wall. Then Derek was kissing me again and... I opened my eyes. This was wrong, wrong, wrong... So, why... Why was I... Doing what, exactly? I looked him straight in the eye and refused to back down.

I saw something there, in the depths of those honey-colored eyes... He wants to have sex with me.

Horrified by the prospect of such a development, I pushed Derek away. "No!" Not looking behind me once for fear of what idiocy I would commit next, I ran upstairs into my room like a woman possessed... And I was. I locked the door and barricaded it with a chair, for starters. I ripped off the trampy clothes, not even bothering to wipe off the make-up, changing hurriedly into my pajamas. I got into my bed, trying to get to sleep, but it didn't work.

After what seemed like thirty minutes of this, I rose from my bed, still wide awake, and went to turn on the radio. Maybe I could drown out my thoughts with the music. Maybe, just maybe...

Of course, fate had other plans for me, per usual.

Fate really is a bitch.

_What just happened, did you kiss me?_

Wasn't fate just too cruel? The irony was killing me here, but I was too tired and worn out to get up and turn it off. Besides, I happen to like this song... I just don't like it when it's applied to my life... in the way that it is... I was still wondering what had happened, to tell the truth.

I sighed, leaning back against my pillow, feeling exhausted. I just needed to take a bubble bath... tomorrow. Not now. I've already seen too much of Derek as it is lately.

_'Cause that's a place we've never been until now..._

Sorta? Ugh... I was happier when we hadn't ever been there, gone there, done that... Derek was one place I did not want to go, if you catch my drift. My frown deepened, and I lightly touched my lips. They were full and swollen, even more so than before. That's just what I need right now, a visual reminder...

My lips a big huge beacon saying "Come make-out with me again, Derek!" I don't need to advertise myself anymore here. I'm in enough trouble as it is... more than enough. Hmm, is this how Angelina Jolie feels? No, you know what, I bet her lips don't hurt like mine... Jeez.

He really did a number on me, didn't he?

_And I don't know how we're gonna be after this..._

Yeah, I know! I don't know how things are going to be around here anymore other than... obviously... AWKWARD. How am I supposed to act around him? How is he going to act around me?

I hate that he doesn't seem fazed by this in the least. I hate that this isn't a big deal to him. It's a big deal to me! Why can't he see that? Why does he keep up with this? I... don't know. Maybe that's the point. Maybe he just does it because he knows it irritates me... And he doesn't mean anything by it...

Hey, a girl can hope...

I mean, we live in the same house, and we're alone until Tuesday, Wednesday? I can't remember. Lizzie and Edwin aren't even supposed to come back until Sunday... Am I just supposed to just avoid Derek until then? He's not the type that you can just ignore... He wouldn't make it easy. Derek never made anything easy.

What was I supposed to do? Call Lizzie, have her come home? Go over and stay at Emily's? Or... I could just be really careful... right?

_Do we pretend these feelings don't exist at all?_

Feelings, what feelings? There were no feelings!

At least... At least not on my end... I'm not quite sure about Derek. He... He acts one way, but then he acts completely the opposite and I just... don't get it.

_Or do we fall?_

Uh, got the answer to that one. No, it's no. A pretty vocal no. Besides, I can't fall for Derek anyways. I'm in love with Sam, his best friend... Sam... I'm so sorry! I... I just... I'm sorry, okay? I mean it, really, I do...

_My confusion shows whenever you stand so close..._

Well, you've got that right... Maybe if he wasn't always doing something stupid or completely crazy. He's so unreadable. I sighed, getting up and walking over to the mirror. I'd felt more than confusion...

_I stumble, I stutter, forget what to say..._

I remembered how I couldn't think around him. How my mind was blissfully empty of any thought at all, just feelings... Lots and lots of feelings. I can't believe I was actually speechless, though. And then I had to go be an idiot and blurt out that Derek's a better kisser than Sam... Compared to Derek, Sam's like a wet fish...

But I'm not supposed to compare them. It's wrong, and I... You can't finish that sentence and still look good, Casey. You can't.

_I'm nervous, I wonder why I'm acting this way..._

Of course I was nervous. You would be too if someone was looking at you like that... Intense, dark, lustily. Like I was a juicy steak, and he was a starving wolf. He wanted to have sex with me. Ugh, knowing him, I bet he still wants to, the little perv!

And my stupid heartbeat sped up, and my heart pounded against my chest. I was really wondering about him, though... Why he was acting that way? Not me... I knew why I was acting weird, and it was perfectly logical, reasonable even. Derek is a highly unstable teenage male with hormones kicked into overdrive. Who wouldn't be completely terrified?

_It's temporary insanity..._

_What's going on with you and me?  
Is it real, or is it fantasy?_

_Forever or just temporary...?_

You know, that's what I'm wondering. What was that? I know why I kissed him... I thought he was Sam, you know, my boyfriend... But if he knew, then, why? He hates me. I hate him, it's sort of a mutual thing... And, still, he... He kissed me. And not just once.

Guess he wasn't kidding when he said if it happened once it would happen again... Why does he have to be right about this one thing? Of all the things to be right about...

You can't fake chemistry. Damn it... I am not thinking like him! I am not like Derek! I'm...

I'm worse. He has no morals, no scruples... I shouldn't be wondering about why he did it. The facts speak for themselves. The point isn't why he did it. It's _that_ he did it. I have to accept that.

And I have to accept that I kissed him back... For whatever bizarre reason... I kissed him back. Even after I knew it was him, I didn't push him away... I kissed him. I let him kiss me. And I let him take off my shirt... I felt up my stepbrother!

I know better than that. I am better than that. I have no excuse. I... I've got to... make it up to Sam. I can't tell him. That wouldn't be good for anyone. He would dump me and hate Derek forever... I don't want to be responsible for breaking up a ten-year friendship... Derek would just hate me more, and so would everyone at school.

You can bet that it would get around. It's too juicy a rumor not to... And I can't handle Sam dumping me. I just... I can't!

But I can't live with this guilt either...

_You made a move, don't change your mind..._

Derek doesn't have a mind to change! I never made up my mind about the whole thing in the first place. I want Sam. I'm not even thinking about Derek, okay? He's... not my type. He's just... not my type. And I love Sam so much... I ought to tell him that. Sam, I mean, not Derek. Though maybe he'd actually back off if he knew I was in love with Sam...?

That's hoping too much, Casey. Waay, way too much. Derek doesn't give up that easily, you know. Ugh, why did he kiss me? Why did I let him? I must've lost my mind...

_Too much to lose, we've crossed the line..._

To state the obvious, yes, we've crossed a line here. A familial line, a blood line... Ew. It squicks me out just to think of it... Imagine what people would say, what people would think... Like Mom and George...

Well, they do say there's a line line between love and hate...

Or, in our case, just hate... But there's still hate and passion... They're freakishly similar in some ways. And when you're straddling a line like that... It's very easy for you to crack...

Oh, I'm walking on another thin line!

_Between friends and something more..._

Derek and I had never been friends. And by each passing day, it was becoming safer to say that we would not ever be friends... We were drifting farther and farther apart... Oh, why couldn't it work faster? I didn't mind that in the slightest.

Something more... That scared me. I don't want to be something more with Derek. I just want to get rid of him at this point... Maybe even for good.

_Was it all a big mistake, 'cause if it was..._

I think I can answer that question.

YES! A big, fat, whopping YES. It was a big mistake. I meant to kiss Sam. Sam wasn't even here. I didn't know. I didn't open my eyes until it was too late. It's not my fault... Derek seems more deliberate about things.

But what do I know? I mean, this is Derek we're talking about here. Derek Venturi, nonchalant as can be. He's not serious about anything. He was probably just doing it to get kicks. Do you think he's drunk? I mean, that would make a lot of sense, right?

_It's much too late to undo..._

Don't you think I know that?

But, seriously, do you have any idea how much I wish I could undo it? Go back in time? Wake up earlier, maybe, I don't know... NOT kiss him. Even just pushing him away or opening my eyes earlier or... something. Anything to change how it is right now.

I want to undo. Undo, undo, undo, backspace...

_And I don't really want to..._

That's a lie! Whoever told you that should be shot!

I do want to. I really want to. I really do want to. Really.

_Let you go, but I still don't know..._

Let him go? I can do that? Well, then, may he go far, far, far away, where I never have to think about him again... I still don't know.

_How I feel about you, what this really means?_

I know how I feel about Derek. He's my stepbrother, and I'm in love with his best friend. Enough said. Hmm, I wonder...

I got up slowly, crossing over to my mirror. My lips were red and puffy, sure, but that would go down. As for my neck... I leaned over so my neck was in the light, reflecting in the mirror, but I couldn't see much of anything. Sighing and feeling nervous, I carefully unbuttoned the top two buttons of my pajama top, bending my neck in the light, feeling a bit like a swan.

My eyes worriedly scanned my neck for any signs of redness. I could not have a hickey... How would I explain that to Sam? Oh, there was an accident with a vacuum cleaner, Darling... The vacuum cleaner's Derek's mouth, by the way? Oh, what, you're dumping me? Nooo...

I bit my lip harder, wincing in pain as I examined my neck for the telltale bumps. Some of the skin looked swollen, and some of the skin was still flushed... But I didn't see any "lovebites", and for that, at least, I was relieved. On shaky legs I walked back to the bed, remembering involuntarily.

_It's crazy to want you, is it meant to be?_

Crazy... I felt crazy. I didn't want Derek, but I felt crazy. The boy's been driving me crazy since we first moved in here. It's not meant to be... I'm meant to be stuck living with him, then, and that's something I can't face. Fate sucks.

_It's temporary insanity..._

_What's going on with you and me?  
Is it real, or is it fantasy?_

_Forever or just temporary?_

_It's temporary insanity..._

_What's going on with you and me?  
Is it real, or is it fantasy?_

_Forever or just temporary?_

Unfortunately, I knew it was real. I had the memories to prove it this time... Not just Derek's word. I mean, I highly doubt it was a very lucid dream we both shared. It might be his fantasy, but it sure wasn't mine.

What's my fantasy, you ask? Easy... I'm back home at the condo in Toronto. No Derek, no Edwin, no George, and no Marti. Don't get me wrong... I like Marti, George, and Edwin. Though Marti is a bit annoying sometimes, and Edwin's sort of Derek's pawn... Everything was so much simpler... better back then.

_Hey, what'd you do to me?_

I leaned back and groaned softly, biting my lip, realizing my back hurt. I carefully got back up, walking over to the mirror. I bit my lip again, lifting up my shirt a little. My hips were starting to look a little purple. I frowned, lightly touching one. I practically screamed out in pain. Well, at least they match the ones on my back and my lips. Stupid Derek.

_Ooh-ooh-ooh, what's come over me?_

I released my shirt, and it fell back, covering what it was supposed to. Then I turned around and padded back over to my bed, taking care to ensure that I didn't injure myself further. It took some experimentation, but I managed to find a position that was fairly comfortable to lay down in. I positioned the radio in a place where I could have easy access to turn it off.

I grabbed a book, hoping it would take my mind off things. I tried to focus on the book, really, I did... I tried. I started hearing these noises, though. They were like, scratching noises... Creaky floorboards. Stuff like that. I tried to write them off, keep reading my book, turn the music up to drown it out... Nothing worked.

I tried saying it was the air-conditioning, but it was October (or was it really November?). I tried saying it was the heat, but it hadn't been that cold tonight. No one was in the house except me and... Derek. Unless he was sneaking a girl in here, which I highly doubted. We didn't have any pets, and it wasn't windy outside. Everything in me told me that I was just imagining things.

After the night I'd had, I figured I might be...

So I got up, tiptoeing over to the door as silently as I could. I held my breath, just in case there was a burglar inside. Maybe this way, he wouldn't know I was here.

But either way, I had to know... I had to know if I was losing my mind here. I quickly un-barricaded the door and was surprised when the lock turned of its own accord... The Venturi house is haunted!

_Ooh, ooh, ooh... If this is crazy, there's nothing I'd rather be..._

Surprisingly enough, it was Derek at the door. His hair was messy, and he looked a little worried, but other than that, he was pretty much the same. It was... hard... to think that nothing much had changed since I'd seen him before. He nodded at me and walked in without asking.

Knock much, Derek? Great... Just what I need right now, Derek invading my personal space.

I knew he wasn't going to make this easy.

_Than here with you now..._

Derek scanned my room like a guard would, looking for anything or anyone potentially harmful. What was he looking for? It should be out there... I rolled my eyes and told him thus. Derek proceeded to frown. "I was worried about you," He mumbled distractedly.

Then he glanced away, then down, then up... Trying to avoid looking at me. He didn't normally do this. Normally he stared at me, checked me out... openly. Not like this. I felt confused, but shrugged nonetheless, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

_Let's figure this out..._

I realized that we were going to have to work this out... Figure out just what was going on and fix it. And then I realized that we were going to have to talk this out... probably even right now. Was I ready for that?

_Here with you now, here with you now..._

I gulped, feeling the unpleasant butterflies fluttering in my stomach. It wasn't over Derek. It was over the conversation that I knew would soon ensue. It was guaranteed to be ten different types of unpleasant at the very least. I exhaled deeply, resolving to do what I had to do.

I still couldn't look at him... Baby steps, Casey. I swallowed again, biting my lip and slowly beginning to look up. I was almost looking at his face when we heard it. A loud thud echoed throughout the house. We both knew it wasn't the heat this time.

I jumped and grabbed Derek's arm. He clamped a hand over my mouth to prevent me from screaming almost reflexively, and we waited there in that awkward silence for a while. After at least a minute free of any noise, Derek and I relaxed somewhat. He removed his hand from my mouth, smirking (probably because he had finally found out how to shut me up). I realized that I was clutching his arm like a lifeline and dropped it immediately, taking a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Drama queen..." He muttered under his breath, walking over to my door, casually flicking the lights off as he poked his head out the doorway. My eyes widened. I was all in the dark now... Anything could...

Happen.

"_Derek_! What'd you do that for!" I shrieked frustratedly. Derek's eyes widened, and then he was walking towards me at a brisk, determined pace. How he could see me in the dark is beyond me... His fingers closed tightly around my wrist, cutting off the circulation. He dragged me over to the door a bit rougher than was necessary.

He shot me an annoyed look, rolling his eyes at me. Holding a finger to his lips, he motioned (not too politely, might I add) for me to shut it... for real, this time. Then he released my wrist none-too-gently. He slipped out of the door, listening for sound. We waited with bated breath for what seemed like forever, but we didn't hear a sound. So, after an undefined point, Derek grabbed my wrist (not as hard this time), and we began to walk down the halls, looking for something I couldn't see.

Suddenly, once we had entered the foyer, we heard a noise. Without thinking, Derek flattened me against the wall. I noted, with some dismay, that this was the exact same spot where he'd kissed my neck in front of his grandma. I grimaced at the unpleasant memory.

Hey, he did the same thing just now, and you liked it!

Well, I didn't know he was Derek then, did I?

What, so you like kissing Derek as long as you don't know he's Derek? You do realize that that makes no sense, right?

When has anything about Life With Derek ever made sense?

Derek glanced at me fleetingly, and my breath sped up involuntarily. Damn it. Not again! He still wasn't wearing a shirt, which wasn't normal. I found myself wishing I had buttoned my shirt up a little more. Especially as he was staring right at the part of my shirt (which, admittedly, showed a little more cleavage than I was comfortable with, especially around Derek!) that was unbuttoned.

I suddenly became very conscious of the fact that Derek was pressed against me. There was barely enough space between us to breathe. I glanced away, trying to look for the mystery invaders... or whatever it was that was making all the noise. But once again, the stupid things were silent. I was about ready to make them show themselves.

It seemed like an eternity had passed of this, and it was an eternity too long for me. I sighed and tried to look away, but it was impossible. Derek was EVERYWHERE. He was inescapable. Finally, I had no choice but to glance back at him. I did a double-take. His eyes were a mixture of dark, volatile emotions, and I felt my pulse race from fear.

I practically slammed my head against the wall in an attempt to get away. But, as usual, there was no getting away from Derek. He **is** impossible. Derek leaned in a little, and I twisted my head, trying... It was no use. Derek followed me, getting closer, closer, closer... As if a magnetic force was drawing him to me. The air between us slowly thinned as he came closer and closer and closer... I was frozen, unable to do anything but just sit there and...

Take it.

_It's temporary insanity..._

_What's going on with you and me?  
Is it real, or is it fantasy?_

_Forever or just temporary?_

"See, I told you Derek would be getting lucky!" A loud, triumphant voice exclaimed. In a flash, the lights went on. Derek turned around, obviously frustrated once again. I peered over his shoulder and saw... Edwin and Lizzie?

Um, excuse me, aren't they supposed to be at their friends' houses for the weekend? Still? Wait, why do I care? Derek was about to kiss me again. I should be down on my knees thanking them with every guilty fiber of my being. Lizzie and Edwin's eyes widened.

"Casey!" They both gaped. Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, turning to Edwin. I felt myself flush and look away. I had no idea what to say to defend myself.

Lizzie and Edwin were still trying to process this whole ordeal, and, in fact, looked quite bamboozled.

_It's temporary insanity..._

_What's going on with you and me?  
Is it real, or is it fantasy?_

_Forever or just temporary?_

I finally knew what to say. I shoved Derek away fiercely, rounding on him. "This is all your fault! Honestly, what **were** you thinking!" I growled violently. The curses in my head were much worse.

Derek's eyes narrowed, and he approached me a little. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I was thinking that I wanted to make sure my **sister** didn't get hurt!" Derek retorted irritably, as if he was doing me some huge favor by "looking out for me". Looking out for me my ass... He just wanted another excuse to...

I rolled my eyes at him, pushing him away from me once again, using a bit more force this time. I held my head high, feeling my eyes burn angrily, hands on my hips. "You can't honestly say that you think of me as a _sister_!" I yelled, forcing myself to suppress my violent urges... Fratricide sounds awfully nice right now.

You know, hang on a second... He can't honestly say he thinks. Last time I checked, thinking required a brain, and it's a well established fact that Derek doesn't have one.

Derek snorted, walking closer to me, smirking. I hated that smug look on his face. I just wanted to smack it right off. "And you **obviously** don't think of me as a brother..." Derek snarled, getting a little too close for comfort. He's been doing that a lot lately.

I glared at him, pushing him away again. "Yeah, you're right, Derek. I think of you as a horny chauvinist pig," I hissed icily, narrowing my eyes in fury. Derek wasn't phased in the slightest.

He merely shrugged, still smirking. "That didn't seem to bother you earlier," Derek drawled cockily. I pushed him again, rage such as I had never known flaring up inside of me. I wanted to kill him, rip him limb from limb... And I'd smile.

Lizzie smiled and hit Edwin in the stomach. "See, I _told_ you they'd be fighting!" She proclaimed triumphantly, motioning for our stepbrother to pay up. They know us so well... Almost too well. Sometimes, anyways... Not all the time. Never when it counts, it seems...

Edwin made a face, rubbing his stomach. He ignored her for our argument. Looks like we've got an audience. Great... Just peachy.

"I told you a **thousand** times already, I thought you were Sam!" I shrieked, about ready to fly at him and, oh, I don't know... Go postal on his sorry ass?

Derek rolled his eyes, coming towards me, gesturing to himself with his hands. "Well, Case, do I _look_ anything like Sam to you? Do I dress like Sam? Do I _act_ like Sam? Do I smell like Sam?" Derek growled, arms outstretched. Lizzie and Edwin could only stare in awe while... While Derek was losing his mind.

Then he leaned in a little closer, and I was a helpless victim all over again. "Do I _taste_ like Sam?" He muttered in my ear. I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my hair stand on end. I just couldn't take it anymore... So I snapped. Lightning fast my hand reached up to slap him across the face.

But Derek, as usual, had other plans. He grabbed my wrist seconds before it would've reached my face, clutching it tightly in his fingers... Tightly enough so I couldn't move it, but not near tightly enough to bruise. Immediately, I reached up with the other hand to slap him, but Derek repeated the motion, grabbing both of my wrists now.

Then he was backing me up and slamming me into the wall. Pain exploded down my back, but Derek didn't care. He'd always been physical. It faded faster than you'd think, the pain, anyways. I wish I could say the same thing about the memories.

His eyes... those eyes... will haunt me forever. I want to forget them, really, I do, but I just... I can't erase them from my memory, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I want to forget.

His eyes were even darker than before. Dark and clouded with wrath... lust... hatred... power. They were a million colors, dark brown, coal black, light brown, gold, honey, tan, ashy gray... A million emotions... all of them dark and intense. He leaned in closer and closer... like he'd done before. But it was different this time, different than all those other times, and I think we both knew it.

His hands pressed mine high against the wall... I felt terrified. Like Derek could do... anything... Anything at all he wanted to do to me and... And get away with it.

I didn't like that feeling.

Derek invaded. He was all I could smell, all I could see, all I could feel... And my head was literally swimming in a fog of confused thoughts. I couldn't absorb it all, much less process everything.

He leaned in even further, if that was even possible by that point, without kissing me. No, not quite yet. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face, every taut, firm line of his body pressing into mine. There couldn't have been scarcely a millimeter between us. There was barely space to breathe, not that I was getting a lot of that done anyways... Heat radiated off him and unto my skin... yet neither of us were sweating.

We were inches away from... doing something we'd both regret in the morning, I think... I wasn't doing anything. I... I couldn't move at all. He had my hands over my head, and my body pinned flat against the wall. I was frozen in anticipation, and, without even realizing it, I was holding my breath... waiting.

His lips were only maybe a centimeter away. I didn't want to think about that because I knew what would follow. Thinking about it made it real. Thinking about it made it happen. So I didn't ever want to even think about it. Thoughts are some very dangerous things, after all...

"Do I _kiss_ like Sam?" Derek hissed huskily. I could feel his breath on my lips, but it lasted only a moment. He didn't wait for the answer. After all, why wait for an answer you already think you know? An answer you already **do** know... His lips crashed against mine and all common sense flew out the window.

_Losing my mind, losing my mind..._

Against my will, I found myself kissing him back breathlessly, bruisingly with reckless abandon. I didn't even realize I was doing it until it was too late, and I was already in too deep to get out. His experienced lips trailed all over mine possessively, sucking and licking and grazing and marking his territory...

"I'm _not_ Sam," Derek groaned gutturally, sounding pissed about... something (who can ever tell with Derek?), biting at my lip violently, almost viciously. An excess of passion. It was like he was gasoline and... I was the match. Or, or maybe it was vice-versa... Isn't it all the same thing anyways? You've got fire either way. Yes, this was fire, and it scared me. It hurt me, and here I was getting burnt. I tasted iron from where my pained lips bled. Derek didn't care... He still devoured my lips.

I heard myself moan and cry against him. But, like a good Boy Scout, he kept applying pressure by kissing me harder and harder and... I couldn't think at all anymore. I could only surrender to the greater power here... Derek. I had to... surrender. Give in...

I heard the gasps somewhere in the back of my head. Edwin and Lizzie. I was surprised I could hear them over the alarms going off in my head, and the blood pumping in my ears.

"Is he...?"

"Yeah, I think he is..."

"But that's..."

"I know..."

"She's not his..."

"Isn't she?"

"Casey's not... Not like all his other girls."

"In some ways, yeah, she's different... But in others... Well, look..."

"So why are they... kissing?"

"I don't know, but there's something seriously wrong here..."

"You got that right, Brother."

_Whoa, what's going on?_

Brother, stepbrother, Derek, Sam, boyfriend, brother... CRAP!

I don't remember much about kissing him... I just remember that I was a good girl. I did my job. I kissed him back. But then I remembered who he was... Who I was... Sam... And...

I don't know how, but I summoned a superhuman strength I didn't know I possessed, and I somehow managed to throw Derek off of me. My wrists were still pinned down when I did this. To this day, I still say it was a miracle. I don't know how else I could've achieved it, honestly, I don't!

My eyes flew open, and I pulled myself off the wall... I didn't know how, but I was breathless, lightheaded, shaking like a leaf, and sweating profusely. Derek was sprawled on his back on the floor. He lay there, merely looking surprised... Breathless, a little floored... Trying to catch his breath, as if I'd knocked all the wind out of him.

That dreadful realization hit me with the stunned looks Lizzie and Edwin shot me. They were confused, unaccustomed to dealing with more grown-up... or more immature... love-hate relationships. I didn't have time to even process that. My head was still reeling, mind racing at the speed of light, which is, of course, a physical impossibility according to Einstein's Law of... Why am I...

_I'm losing my mind, losing my mind..._

"I LOVE SAM!" I screamed, panting. I had to make Derek know this. I just... had to. He had to get it... So he could just, you know, leave me the hell alone! I... I needed a break. Didn't he... Couldn't he see that? That I needed to be far away from him?

Lizzie and Edwin both jumped and then blinked, even more mystified than before. Not that I could blame them. I was just as confused... They didn't get how one person could have feelings for two people at a time... Not that I had feelings for Derek! That's just how it looked to them. They automatically think anyone who kisses likes each other. Which, as we all well know, is a complete and utter lie. Sure, it helps, but it doesn't determine it.

Derek made a face and got up. He had obviously caught his second wind. "Start acting like it!" He snapped roughly, disgust evident in his tone. He has the nerve to be disgusted of me? He has the nerve to be... I... I should be the pissed one here. He kissed me against my will... AGAIN! It's not healthy. Not for my mental sanity and stability.

I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. "If you ever kiss me again, Derek, I will castrate you!" I howled, charging towards him. I was about to tackle him or something when I took a deep breath and held myself back.

Derek didn't look the least scared. I was furious. Derek looked downright smug again. He was smirking, the arrogant little asshole, and he had no right! None whatsoever. And, damnit, I was in love with Sam! Why the hell couldn't he get that!

Maybe because you keep sending him mixed signals by kissing him back!

It's not my fault! I had no choice! I was pinned against the wall! There was nowhere to go!

"That would make it awfully hard to have sex with me, now wouldn't it, Case?" Derek replied smoothly and cockily, exuding confidence from every pleased pore. That was it, really and truly... My true breaking point. I just couldn't take it any longer!

_Losing my mind, oh..._

I flew at him, and in an instant, I'd tackled him. This time I had him pinned. I didn't speak, I only straddled him (I wasn't thinking about screwing his brains out, rather, I wanted to knock what little he had left out). Derek still smirked.

"You know, Case, if you wanted to screw me, all you had to do was ask..." He drawled seductively, looking very, very self-satisfied and, oh, the horror... turned on. His grin stayed firmly in place no matter what maneuver I tried...

Finally, I socked him. Right in the face. Gave him a fat lip... Not that it changed much. Sure, it opened up the cuts, but it wasn't that different from what had happened to me. I couldn't even see straight anymore. Vengeance and bloodlust clouded my vision. I started hitting him and I couldn't, I wouldn't... stop.

Derek sat up, staring at me and looking absolutely undamaged, unfrazzled, unrattled... Unshaken. He was strong, on top, confident, and assured. One hundred percent. I hated him all the more for it.

I was... coming undone at the seams. My world was falling apart here, and he was laughing at me, mocking me, dancing on the shattered remains of my life, my love, my sanity. The angry coils of enmity rose up inside of me, bubbling and bubbling faster and faster, coming thicker and thicker... Bigger. My hatred grew.

I was in a blind rage. I wrapped my fingers around his neck, trying to choke him, strangle him, asphyxiate him, kill him... Anything to get that stupid annoying look off his face. I felt Edwin and Lizzie pulling me off of him, but I put up a fight.

In the end, Edwin tended to his brother while Lizzie took me gently by the hand, taking me upstairs to my room. I was still shrieking "I hate you" at the top of my lungs, over and over and over again... I couldn't stop until, somehow Lizzie quieted me.

She turned off the radio, and she stayed with me that night... It was nice.

_Insanity, ah ah ohh, what you do to me..._

But it was official now. Derek had finally driven me off the deep end. And he wouldn't stop...

Loren ;

Great song, check it out, plus, don't forget to... REVIEW! Lol, nah, seriously, thanks guys. I couldn't do it without you nagging me all the time, and, plus, I had a lot of fun writing the last part. ;) yawn It was so totally worth it anyways, so thanks!


	11. Falling

Sorry for not updating in... Over a month, I've been told? I was just really blocked (I absolutely hate to use or even think that word, by the way) for a while on the Derek/Casey conversation and how to end it and Derek's... crap... and what not. But some reviewers decided to beg and implore and nag and grumble about it... Seriously, I love you guys. I got 31 reviews (and an 18 review per chapter average is... AWESOME) for the last chapter, which completely blows MY mind. So I thought it was high time I updated. Nah, I was gonna update anyways when I got back from Mexico (It's amazing how inspired you get when half the TV shows are in Spanish, and you've been reading all day). That was Wednesday, and I've been writing like a fiend ever since.

Okay, first of all, Derek is sort of different in the beginning of the chapter than he is at the end. But hey, after reading a Cruel Intentions fic or two and some other screwed up romances/angsts, you'd be surprised how it inspires you. So I got over the bit of a block at the end. Anyways, admittantly, Derek is HARSH, blunt, and frank in this chapter. It's like Derek to the extreme towards the end. The beginning's normal. This chapter's kinda gonna blow your mind a little. But not as much as the last one, 'cause nothing can really top that. Anyways, he's very cynical, but he'll get worse. Also, there's a lot of raw testosterone in this chapter... I guarantee you that you will think he is a jerk at least once. In fact, you will probably want to slap him for something he thinks/says. Oh, and there's a lot of Sam-bashing too. It's pretty brutal this chapter.

Derek really won't change much in this fic. Or really, at all, for that matter. Casey's the one who does the changing. I figured it was high time someone made Casey compromise rather than Derek. I mean, he doesn't really change at all. He's still the same guy who always wants his way and just HAS to have the last word. He will be able to be in a long-term relationship and have romantic feelings, but that's 'bout it.

Anyways, I don't own Life With Derek. Just this fic's future plotlines. Oh, and a special thanks goes out to Abby and her wonderful fic Confrontations (see, I didn't call it Consequences! And I remembered! seriously, Abby, I told you you'd influenced a part... Mind you, yours is way different than mine... I'll be thanking you again soon, I'm sure... Quite possibly in the next chapter, though I think that's a bit too soon for what I have in mind... And this is a promotion, hint, hint to all you readers... It's a great little story, so read it and be happy) for the inspiration... Except I haven't read it in a while, so I don't remember it as well as I ought to... The French bits really aren't that important, and, in case it isn't clear, it's Sunday by now in the fic. Oh, and thanks to anyone who reviewed!

Ugh, finding a title for this chapter was hard. It was between Wishful Thinking, the current title, Lost, and This Heart of Mine. But I like the first three songs better, and Wishful Thinking is, ironically, too upbeat in some respects, and Lost is, well, doesn't quite fit, and the revelation doesn't really happen in this chapter at all. Actually, even some of this song doesn't fit... But I love the song and the general message as well as the title is sorta what I'm looking for... So anyone who guesses which band sings this song wins a pretty prize of spoiler-riffic spoilers. Anyways, now I'm going off into the fic for once...

* * *

Mmm, that was a good dream... Oh, wait, that actually happened! I made out with Casey... And not just once! I can't believe I thought it'd be over it if I kissed her once. Because I don't just want to kiss her one time. I'm not okay with that. I want Casey, and I want her bad.

She avoided me all of Saturday, and I didn't make an effort to chase. Hey, I know when someone needs space. Space brings clarity... and hopefully her dumping Sam. Besides, I've been in a good mood since then. So she tried to strangle me... The point is that she didn't succeed, and that she kissed me. She actually kissed me... when she was in her full mind. I mean, this is huge! Boy, did she kiss me...

In the middle of my thoughts, I heard a knock on the door. "What?" I called out groggily. I heard some awkward shuffling around the door. It wasn't Casey, that much I knew. I don't know how...

"Uh... Derek... Can I..." It was Edwin. Right then and there the Queen of England could've come in my room and I wouldn't have cared. Without even opening my eyes, I waved my hand. My voice was low and gravelly. It hurt a little. Probably from sleeping with my mouth open.

"Sure, Ed," I grunted wearily. You see, last night I tried to test the waters with Casey... She sorta didn't answer. So I was just all... whatever. I went out clubbing and left her to babysit. I went through a pack of cigarettes that night.

I went through a pack of cigarettes Friday night too... Saturday morning, whenever... I couldn't go to sleep, so I snuck out on the roof, staring at the stars and smoking... Just thinking. Stuff I normally don't do. I did a lot of thinking... on Casey, of course. I was out there so late I caught the sunrise. So that's me... Two packs a day. I don't normally smoke, you know. Usually it's just one or two if I do at all... I mean, I've seen the pictures, read the literature, watched the commercials. I know they're bad for you, but, hey, I happen to like a lot of things that are bad for me...

I don't know. It just... helps me unwind sometimes, I guess. Not that I'm normally this stressed. I'm normally never stressed. But I've had a secret stash ever since Casey moved in. You know how many packs I went through then? Eight packs that first week she was there. Eight. The girl damn near got me hooked on smoking.

My throat was a little sore. Edwin came in, and I opened a bloodshot eye. Okay, so my head hurt... a lot. I winced as the world spun around me for a minute. Forgot to mention that Amy had to drive me home again last night, didn't I? Okay, so I maybe got a little wasted. Okay... A lot wasted. And I still couldn't get Casey out of my head.

I forced myself to blink and sit up, being careful not to make any sudden movements. Edwin turned the lights on. "**Jeez**, Edwin!" I moaned, throwing my arm over my tired eyes. Edwin laughed nervously and turned the lights off. There was still light to see by, of course. It wasn't that bad.

"Sorry, Derek... Look, if you want, I'll just go..." Edwin replied cautiously. He'd been skittish around me ever since Saturday morning. Not that I blame him... But hey, I was a jerk. They should be used to that... Casey was the one who went violent... Is it twisted that that just makes me like her more? Probably, but then again, what isn't twisted about the idea of me with Casey?

I shrugged and waved him off. "Nah... 'S fine... Whaddaya want?" I slurred, still feeling somewhat drunk. I wasn't, of course, but being drunk feels a hell of a lot better than a hangover. Edwin peered at me suspiciously but wisely opted to say nothing. Smart move, Kiddo. See, this is why you're the little genius...

Edwin bit his lip... You know, Casey does that a lot... Oh, man, and she looks so hot when she does. And then there's the times when I bite her lip... Those are the best. I wonder if the swelling's gone down yet. It hasn't gone down much on me... I think this is the first time that I've been to a club in ages without actually hooking up with anyone. Muy strange.

_Tout la monde dans la boîte duvient ivre..._

That song was on... I took it a bit too literally. Quelle suprise! What can I say? Like I said, the only thing I do half-assed is my homework.

I rolled my eyes and motioned for him to hurry it up. Edwin did as asked and instead of spending the normal, decent amount of time he usually does on talking, he blurted it out right there. "I think I like Lizzie." I blinked at him, clearly disbelieving. At first, I thought I heard him wrong. I mean, it's Edwin. He's ten. Maybe he said Frizzy or... Ditzy... or Fritzy... or Fizzy... or Busy... Or Dizzy... or... Okay, so none of those are really names. Whatever.

Then my eyes widened and I leaned forward a little. "Excuse me... **What!**" I yelled, panicking just a little... Okay, a lot... Okay, so it was kind of like my meltdown at the wedding. Not the point. Edwin flinched and shrank back a little, but he held his ground. I couldn't fault the guy for doing that.

"You heard me," He muttered indignantly. I blinked, a little surprised. And that's how I know he's my brother. The sarcastic remarks. Ah, how they run in the family... You know, if he's giving me lip... Then he must be serious. Daaamn, this is one scary prospect. I mean, first Dad and Nora... Then me liking Casey... Now Edwin's lost his mind too!

"Ed, you can't like Lizzie. I mean it," I stated sincerely, my tone firm. I have to help him. I mean, sure, I'm not the greatest brother... Okay, I'm a terrible brother to Edwin. But I know things, being older... And I don't want him stuck like I am, mooning over some stupid girl we happen to live with. Edwin gave me a challenging look. He looked very irritated.

"Oh, and why can't I like her, Derek? Because you say so?" Edwin snapped, his tone full of resentment. Okay, so maybe I should've gone a little easier on him from time to time... I wasn't really that bossy, was I? I was... But why would I keep my brother from Lizzie unless I was trying to protect him? I'm actually doing the right thing there.

I shook my head, groaning. "No, man, that's not it at all. I could care less. Just... think about it for a second," I backpedaled, trying to explain. I have to make him understand what I mean... What I'm trying to do here. It's really for his benefit. "She's your stepsister, for one thing..."

Edwin's eyes darkened. "This from the guy who made out with his stepsister?" Edwin scoffed, disbelieving. Hehe... Oh, right... He saw that. How could I forget?

That one's obvious, Derek. You were making out with Casey. Your mind wasn't exactly on the fact that you were all over each other in front of your little brother. It wasn't really... on... anything.

"Casey and me are not you and Lizzie. There is a very clear difference," I interjected emphatically. There was. Casey was older and bossier, whereas Lizzie was nicer, more vacillating. They have perfectly suited personalities for each other.

I rolled my eyes, slightly annoyed, and continued. "Well, just think about what would happen if you told her, and she shot you down. You would have to see her every day. You'd never get over her," I pointed out, trying to talk him out of it. For some reason, I was worried that he would do something about those "feelings" of his. But I did definitely have a point. Edwin fixed me with a glare. Jeez, he's a lot more serious than I thought.

"What, Derek, am I really that much of a loser? Am I such a loser that it's absolutely inconceivable to believe that a girl like Lizzie might actually like me?" Edwin growled bitterly. I felt bad. He looks so... sad. I mean, okay, my little brother's not the coolest guy out there, but... I know it sounds weird that I, of all people, am saying this... But there are more important things than being cool. I mean, some days I would kill to be as smart as Edwin. Granted, those days number very few, because it means I'd have to try in school (then again, if I was really that smart, I probably wouldn't have to do much).

Like, for instance, if I was as smart as Edwin, I probably wouldn't have kissed Casey last night. Which would've totally sucked, now that I know what it's like. I think being good with girls makes up for the whole not-scientifically-inclined thing.

Edwin's not that much of a loser, though. I mean, hello, he's my little brother. I'm sure he'll come into it. Eventually, I think. Anyways, he actually has a chance with Lizzie. After all, they're sorta friends. Well, they're at least on regular speaking terms, you know, when he doesn't smell like a goat. Proper hygiene is still very important, you know. I mean, there's a limit. You can't be so clean that you're all... metro... about it. But generally, wearing the same thing for weeks is... just plain bad.

"No... In fact, I think Lizzie probably likes you... despite the fact that you're a dork. You and her are close, I'll give you that... But what happens if you tell her and you get shot down? How would you ever be able to be in the same room with her?" I continued nonchalantly, trying my hardest to convince him that this whole liking-Lizzie thing was a bad idea. And it was, hello, I've been there! I am there. And it sucks. I wasn't just saying that for his benefit, you know...

It's just... Edwin gives great advice... on limited topics. So I wanna see what he thinks about it. You know, in case I ever decide to bare it all and tell Casey how I feel. Man, I sound like some corny love song. Not that Casey and me are close or anything, but we do live in very close quarters. I mean, her room is across the hall from mine, and we share a bathroom. If things got messy... It'd be a disaster.

Edwin's face lit up when I mentioned that the girl of his prepubescent dreams might actually like him. It's pretty likely. After all, they're around each other A LOT. And Edwin's decent to her. I can sorta tell when people like each other, love each other, that kind of crap. The point is, I have this sixth sense for telling how people feel. Unfortunately, I can tell that this is the real thing, and I've been picking up some vibes between them lately. I should've been expecting this conversation...

It's how I knew Dad was head-over-heels for Nora... And how I knew about Casey and Sam. Though, really, a blind cow could've seen that building. So I know that Sam's really not as committed to Casey as she is to him. Then again, my own personal feelings could be influencing that. There's just... something off with their relationship. I know it's not going to last. Regardless of whether I exercise my considerable power in the equation or not. I don't know what's going to do it in, but it'll be something.

Casey, on the other hand... She genuinely loves Sam, or, at least, that's what she's telling herself. I'm kinda biased towards the second one. As for how she feels about me? That's a little bit trickier. I know she's at least attracted... 'cause how could she not be? I mean, seriously! So she lusts after me... Going a bit far there, I know, but it's true... After all, why else would she kiss me back?

I mean, she can tout those excuses all she wants, but I don't believe them. There's something between us. A blind person could see it. Or maybe not, since no one seems to think anything of it but the two of us... Whatever. I know what I feel, and she feels it too. She has to. After all, you can't fake chemistry, and that's what she's doing with Sam. Faking it, deluding herself.

Edwin looked at me then, and I was struck by how mature he seemed suddenly. There was a determined look in his eyes that I had never seen before. "At least it would be better than having to look at her every day, not knowing..." Edwin posed thoughtfully. He has a point, but then again, he's the sort of type to angst over such things. You see, me, I don't care. I don't care that Casey doesn't know, 'cause that makes it a hell of a lot easier for me. I do care that she's with Sam though... As weird as it is, and trust me, it's WEIRD for me to be saying this; I want her with me...

"Or what if it told her, you were together... And she dumped you?" I posed, becoming more desperate to convince him... and myself... to not pursue it. Edwin shrugged, and for a second, he kinda looked like me. Huh. Guess we are related after all...

"At least I would've been with her... That would've been worth it," Edwin replied easily. Damn him. Was he deliberately trying to make me think? I don't need to second-guess myself. I need to be sure and... Ugh. I've got to talk him out of this.

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair. I sighed, reaching the end of my rope. I seriously had to talk him out of this. "And you can bet that Dad and Nora wouldn't be happy about it," I continued, pointing out the obvious. Edwin rolled his eyes. Hmm, maybe he's getting a bit of a backbone. Yikes.

"Oh yeah... Bet you were taking that into consideration when you made out with Casey earlier," Edwin retorted sarcastically. I glared at him. Oh, sure... Bring that up again. You won't shut up about that, but you neglect to mention Casey attempting to strangle me. Hey, I wasn't the only one who lost my mind that night... morning... whatever! I mean, we both lost our minds... So it's only fair that we get equal exposure and blame. Edwin shrugged again, before I could say anything. "Besides, they don't _have_ to know... And if they disapprove, they can stuff themselves," Edwin drawled, sounding sneaky. Okay, that's it... The kid is most definitely MY little bro.

I snorted. But Edwin still wasn't finished. Nah, he had to ice the cake. "Because I'm in love with her and that's all that matters!" He wound up shouting a bit too loudly for his own good. My jaw dropped. That's an understatement. My jaw dropped to the floor. Am I still drunk? I mean, he can't love Lizzie. He just told me he liked her like, what, a second ago? This is ridiculous... He moves... fast.

"You're not in love! You're too young to be in love!" I blurted, leaping to my feet. Whoo... My head's spinning, and not in a good way. I held my aching head, trying to gather my bearings. That took me a good five minutes. Edwin crossed his arms over his chest, scowling at me.

"And you're too young to be sexually active!" Edwin countered, sounding absolutely disgusted. How... How does he know about that? I mean, I don't sleep with people in my own house... Not that I sleep with people at all... I usually leave right... You know, I don't do that either... Heh. Heh. Seriously, though, how does he...?

I was a bit flummoxed for a second, but I managed to recover as quickly as I could. "You don't even know what love is!" I found myself sneering, walking closer to Edwin, and poking him in the chest. Edwin looked scared. But then his eyes hardened and narrowed, and he pushed me back a little.

"Oh, and you do? You, who can't even stay with a girl for two weeks, know what love is! I don't even think you know what it's like to like a girl!" Edwin scorned, glaring at me. Okay, so maybe he thought he was serious. But he wasn't in love with the girl. He was just very, very attached, and right now, that's clouding his mind. I have to give him credit though... He must really mean it.

I shoved him angrily. "Well, I'm getting a hell of a lot more action than you!" I yelled irritably. Okay, so maybe I wasn't exactly in a mood to be pushed. I've been having moodswings since the act. Jumping from elated happiness to anger to... Well, I don't know. The point is, I'm moody and sulky. I've been on edge since it happened... This silence thing with Casey. On the bright side, Sammy hasn't stopped by. Edwin glowered at me.

"You've never been in love, so what do you know about it!" Edwin screamed back. His face turned red. I can see why he thinks that... I mean, it's...

My fists clenched. "You don't know that! I have been in love! I..." I hollered back impulsively. I didn't know what to say next. There was nothing I could...

"With who, Derek?" Edwin asked, a menacing gleam in his eyes. You think you're getting it out of me? That's just plain ridiculous. Now I was really on edge.

"You don't know her!" I shrieked desperately, on the verge of completely losing it. I had lost it... Love? Did I just admit to Edwin that I... I did. I can't believe I... I thought I'd fo... Damn! "Oh, god..." I muttered vaguely, trying to collapse. It didn't work, of course. As soon as I sunk back down on to my bed, I felt sick. Edwin shot me a weird look, but I gritted my teeth and looked up at him wearily.

I... I have to fix this. Before I throw up. I don't normally barf when I'm hungover. I fixed him with an intense look, clutching the head of the bed with white knuckles, grimacing. "Look, Ed... Even despite all that, you're nuts if you think Casey'll be cool with it," I groaned, biting my lip as a wave of pain hit my stomach.

Edwin fixed me with a look this time around. A look that clearly said he wasn't buying it... But he has to. "She was sure cool with _your_ kisses," Edwin grunted under his breath. I tried to glare at him, but I felt too ill to bother. I sighed, trying to keep it all together. I was fighting a losing battle with my stomach.

"You keep bringing that up! I know Casey, okay. And, obviously, since she, oh, I don't know, sorta tried to kill me afterwards... I don't think she was cool with it. She thinks it's morally wrong. I know, I've heard it all. You're my brother, and she's her sister. The girl wants nothing to do with me, and you and Lizzie would just throw us together again and again. If you did something stupid, Lizzie would complain to Casey, and Casey would come bitch to me about it... Casey won't let you date Lizzie, period," I pointed out emphatically. I tried to stand again, but my stomach was killing me.

Edwin was about to say something else, but a wave of nausea hit me and suddenly I was up and running out of my room. The bathroom door was locked, but I jumped up, grabbed the key, and forced it in the lock. I barely managed to shut the door behind me before I raced at the toilet, bending over to throw up in it. Something is seriously wrong here. I usually have a pretty high liquor tolerance. I NEVER vomit. Never. Okay, except for the first time I ever got drunk... Which is obviously not now. I felt another wave of nausea hit me and leaned back over the toilet. I threw up again, trying to close my eyes and ignore the terrible smell. Disgusted, I reached over and flushed the toilet. Then I just leaned against it, laying there with my head against the porcelain and my feet against the wall.

A wave of sickness hit me again, and miserably, I leaned against the cool toilet, praying it would pass. Usually I just had a really bad headache. Sometimes bright light hurt my eyes, and sometimes loud sounds hurt my ears, but other than that... I was mostly fine. A few aspirin generally took care of it. Not today, however. Moaning weakly, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and closed my eyes.

It may sound unbelievable, but I hadn't noticed that the water was running until I closed my eyes. Ridiculous, I know, but I was sorta focused on other things... Like getting to the toilet in time. My eyes flew open with the realization. Without any doubt, I knew it was Casey. I didn't feel up to facing her. Hell, I didn't even feel up to standing.

And then the water stopped. My eyes were immediately riveted to the shower curtain, waiting... Casey started to open the curtain, but then she saw me and gasped. Almost immediately, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "_Derek_..." She snarled, sounding absolutely disgusted. She stepped behind the curtain, hiding everything except her head. Well, any flesh would make me go nuts. I merely blinked up at her tiredly. "What're _you_ doing here? I locked the door!" Casey exclaimed, becoming progressively more annoyed by the second.

I felt sluggish, so I merely shrugged and didn't budge. I didn't have the strength. "I'm not going to jump you, if that's what you're worried about..." I mumbled distractedly. I closed my eyes. I wish I could just go back to sleep. Casey flinched, but I wasn't phased. I could feel her eyes on my neck. Relax, Case, the bruises are only minimal. They'll fade.

"Look, Derek... We need to talk." Gee, you think? The words every guy... every girl... everyone dreads to hear. Nothing good ever follows them. I sighed, opening my eyes again and slowly got to my feet. In a few steps, I was standing in front of the shower. For some reason, my breath was coming in a little bit short. I...

I looked at her levelly, and Casey fidgeted under my stare. She bit her lip, looking pretty uncomfortable and embarrassed. Wow, guess the feeling's mutual. I just don't like feeling like this. Like I'm not in control. It's... sorta scary. I licked my lips, in a totally not-intentional way, and grabbed a towel from the towel rack. I offered it to Casey, a sheepish smile on my face. She stared at the towel wordlessly, too surprised for words.

I smiled weakly, offering it to her again. "I thought you might be comfortable with more between us than a shower curtain," I replied quietly. Casey stared at me blankly. Okay, didn't she mention something about talking? Well, whatever daze she was in, she snapped out of it a second or two later.

She pulled the curtain around her tighter. Her knuckles were even white. Then she exhaled and cleared her throat. Casey couldn't even look at me. This might be harder than I thought. "About what happened..." She began awkwardly. I knew exactly what she was going to say next. I thought you were Sam... Blah, blah, blah. That, of course, doesn't explain why the hell she kissed me back, but whatthehellever. So, naturally, I dropped all pretense and had to interrupt. Because Casey just doesn't get it.

"Save it, Case. If you tell me you thought I was Sam one more time, I'm gonna hurl," I interrupted irritably. Well, hey, maybe I'm getting a bit of my color back. You know, on second thought, maybe I'll just hurl anyways. After all, it's what I was doing a few minutes ago, and why is now any different? I dropped the towel on the floor symbolically (though symbolic of what I wasn't quite sure) and crossed my arms over my chest. My eyes bored into hers and she was even more uncomfortable. Casey bit her lip.

"I don't really know what to say..." Casey mumbled, looking down. She really didn't know what to say. A sorry might be a little nice. You know, for trying to kill me. But hey... It's cool. I was being an ass and, really, I get that. But I was just trying to protect myself. I mean... I really wasn't thinking all that clearly anyways. Casey had just kissed me, and I was in a bit of a haze.

Next thing I knew, I was moving closer to her. A shower curtain and a couple inches of air were the only things separating our bodies now. I wouldn't forget that. I couldn't forget that, even if I wanted to. "Then don't _say_ anything," I whispered suggestively, leaning in a little and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Casey's eyes fluttered closed involuntarily. I didn't move my hand, but instead slid my fingers down her damp cheek. Her skin's so soft. My fingers brushed against her full lips and dropped down to her neck, resting in that hollow spot at the base of her throat. Casey's breaths were erratic and short. I leaned in further, to kiss her again. This was going a hell of a lot better than I'd planned. I had almost kissed her when she whispered, almost against my lips, "Don't."

I blinked, confused, and Casey shook her head, a pained look crossing her face. What just happened here? I... I don't know. Casey sighed, leaning back a little. "Derek... This can't happen. You have to stop," Casey said firmly, pushing me away. Forceful. I like that in a girl... I like that in Casey. But she's crazy if she thinks I'm going to listen to her. After all, when have I ever listened to her in the past... about anything?

She avoids my eyes, pulls that thin curtain tighter around herself. She can't even look at me. That's what you do when you lie. You can't look a person in the eye. She's desperate and scared. She doesn't mean this. I know it. She doesn't; she can't. "I... I don't have feelings for you. I'm in love with Sam," She stammers, still avoiding my eyes. I don't believe that, and I don't believe her. She can lie to herself all she wants, but she can't lie to me. I may be stupid, but even I'm not that stupid.

I fixed her with a hard, flinty look. "Then explain why you were kissing me back, Case," I ordered abruptly. I took my hands off her, waiting for her to answer. She couldn't, of course. I mean, what do you say? I got caught up in the heat of the moment? I stopped thinking? My brain was clouded by lust? They're all bad excuses, and she knows it. I charged on. "You **can't**, can you?" I snapped, eyes narrowing.

Casey floundered for something to say, but once again, I interrupted. "Last time I checked, if you kiss someone like that... You mean it," I stated bluntly. I looked at her, hoping she got the message. "And I _know_ I meant it." I don't know who, but after I said that, one of us took a sharp intake of breath. The silence was beyond awkward. It was deafening. Casey shook her head, disbelieving. What the hell am I thinking here, by the way? I mean, have I lost my ever-loving mind?

Obviously. I should've just made out with her in the beginning. Then I wouldn't be having this problem.

"What the **hell** is wrong with you, Derek! I'm your stepsister... Your best friend's girlfriend... And you _hate_ me! So... So why are you doing this?" Casey shrieked, sounding insanely frustrated. She shoved me then. I didn't exactly know what to say... But she had me all wrong. She always read me wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She sighed, leaning against the wall, collapsing a little.

"I don't give a damn about any of that, Casey!" I exclaimed passionately. I bent down to pick up the towel, which I then chucked at her, displaying only a little of my frustration. This time, she caught it. She disappeared behind the curtain for a minute, but I could see her silhouette, and well, that was enough to make me need to take a cold shower. A moment later she emerged from the shower wearing the towel. Just the towel. Can you say hot?

She fixed me with a severe look, her hands on her hips. "_Don't_, Derek," She snapped in a no-nonsense tone. Don't what? You don't get to boss me around. I mean, I like you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you. Because, frankly, I couldn't stay away from you if I tried... And I think the feeling's mutual. "Don't do this! Don't say things like that!" Casey cried, throwing her hands in the air. Try and stop me, Case. Go on ahead and try. I dare you.

"Don't tell me what to do, Case. Maybe I don't want to stay away... You ever think of that? You're not the boss of me, Casey, and I can do whatever I want with whoever I want whenever I want... Got it?" I challenged, getting in her face a little. Arguing with Casey is... both fun and... frustrating. Casey rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Things were about to get... rough. For me... 'Cause of Casey. Obviously. Casey's eyes narrowed further. She was really angry now. I didn't really get where all the anger came from. Some place deep down inside of her, I guess. But when she let it out... Watch out!

"Okay, fine! Since you don't seem to get it, I'll make it clear," Casey snarled, starting to pace in the shower. You know, if she keeps that up, she's going to slip. I mean, sure, I'll be here to catch her, but my reflexes aren't performing at optimal level right now. Obviously, 'cause of the hangover. I rolled my eyes, but listened anyways. Casey looked me right in the eyes. Her gaze never faltered once. I'll be honest. It was freakin' intense.

"I'm in love with Sam. Period. There is no room for another guy in my life, especially not you. I'm certainly not in love with you. I don't have any remotely romantic feelings for you. I don't even like you most of the time. In fact, while I'm at it, let me just say that I hate you. You make my skin crawl. I despise everything about you. And your annoying little habit of hitting on me is unwanted and unneeded. So you should cease and desist immediately. Got it?" She snapped quickly, at some points all in one breath. I'm not gonna lie. Hearing all that from her? It sorta stung a little, a lot... It's all relative.

But I knew she didn't really mean all that, so it was almost fine. I know she's "in love" with Sam. And I know she's not in love with me. Sure, I'll admit that. I mean, I'm kinda an ass to her most of the time. She might hate me, and well, she has right. But I don't make her skin crawl. I make her skin itch, tingle, buzz... But not crawl. So I was prepared with a response, per usual.

"That doesn't mean you don't want me," I countered coolly, feeling the smirk slide across my face. Casey slapped me before I knew what was happening. Naturally, per usual, she looked horribly frustrated. Just the way I like her.

"No, Derek... That's what the slap means," She sneered. But then she stepped back a minute to stare at me, suddenly confused. Confused about what exactly? Hmm... "I don't get you. You could have any girl at school, yet you come unto me. Why? I demand to know why!" Casey mumbled, peering at me curiously.

Because I'm in love with you! That's why.

I didn't say that, of course. I merely shrugged nonchalantly. "Easy access..." My first answer, of course, and on some level, I suppose it was true. But if I really wanted easy access, I could've gone for Emily next door... Or even Vicky. By the logic of "easy access", other logical choices would be Nora, Lizzie, and Marti. Okay, ew, now I'm grossing myself out here. I expected Casey to punch me in the shoulder, so I was prepared, flexing. It didn't hurt me a bit.

I licked my lips and continued, my eyes finally focusing on hers. I wanted her to get that I actually meant this. "And... maybe it's because you're the one girl I can't get... I happen to like a challenge," I said honestly, feeling a little vulnerable. I had to be very careful here. After all, I was treading on thin ice. At any second, the ice could break, and then I'd really be screwed. Like the time I almost died when we were playing hockey on Uncle Tim's farm.

Casey hit me again, looking cross. This time, I wasn't expecting it. Ow. "That's the stupidest reason I ever heard!" She proclaimed before hitting me again. Honestly, what did she want me to say? Oh, Casey... You're my soulmate? Oh, Casey... Tu es la seule femme de ma vie? Seriously... I'm not offering a marriage proposal here. That's about as... romantic as I can get. I mean, sure, I say all sorts of crap to other girls.

Lies, pretty much. It makes sense, of course, that I can't tell Casey the truth. A guy's got to protect his interests, or, in this case, his life. But I wasn't thinking about that when I responded, per usual. "Speaking of stupid reasons... Come up with an excuse for kissing me back yet?" I asked smugly. Casey, of course, couldn't answer 'cause she didn't have any.

I smirked, fixing her with a smug look, leaning in a little further. "Yeah, that's what I thought," I replied after some time, eyes narrowed. Casey's glare intensified. She wanted to slap me. No doubt about that. But she didn't quite have a reason yet. I haven't said anything offensive or flirtatious enough yet. Give me time, I'm telling you.

I'll just start rambling off like a lunatic. Say something stupid. Put my foot in my mouth. You know, normal stuff. I just don't know when to stop. "Hey, Casey, what _would_ be a good excuse? Just curious," I questioned craftily. Casey's eyes were like blue fire. She was getting pissed. Not mad enough to strangle me, but mad enough to storm off angrily.

There's only one problem with that, however... She's not wearing any clothes. Well, not much clothes. Not that I mind, of course... I mean, they're not really storming sort of clothes, you know? Especially considering that I could make the towel disappear in one strong tug.

Why is it that that idea is sounding better and better by the minute? I mean, I'm at the end of my rope here. It's at the point where I'm 'bout a step away from just... Screwing her brains out. My self-control has become very important. Because she has to like me. I mean, I know she wants to do me. Hell, if I were a girl, I'd want to do me. But she doesn't know she wants to do me yet. And she has to want to and know that for it to count.

'Cause I'm not going to jail unless I kill someone. Who is hard to say right now, but I'm leaning towards Sam...

Damn, I really need a cold shower to cool me down. They're becoming so familiar. How unfortunate. Oh, wait, Casey's talking... "None," She growled, acting like she wanted to tear me apart. Been there, done that...

She took one breath, a light one, before narrowing her eyes and levelling her eyes with mine. Even if it meant she had to look up. "I'm only going to tell you this once, Derek," Casey stated frostily, ice dripping from every word. Her stare was cold. I rolled my eyes, but gestured for her to speak anyways. Casey wasn't amused. Clearly. "We both had temporary lapses in sanity last night. That's why what happened last night should never, ever be repeated. That being said, it obviously can never happen again. Never again, especially since it never should have happened in the first place. I don't know what you're thinking here... But you and me... There's nothing there, despite what you may "feel", assuming you have feelings. There's no love there. No like there... No chemistry there. Not even any trust there. In fact, I've despised you since Day One, Derek. Now that we've got all that established..." Casey rattled off coolly. Her words were sub-zero. No, no... Absolute zero. Yeah, the absence of motion zero. I told you, frozen.

That hurt a little. Or maybe a lot. I'm not one of those guys who likes to talk about his feelings. Never have been, never will be. But if it did, hurt that is, I'm not gonna show it like some pansy-ass freak like Sam. Heaven forbid I ever become Sam. If I try to become Sam, please, I'm begging you... Shoot me. Leave me with some dignity. I'd rather die a man.

Because, DAMN IT, I am not Sam. I will not be little Sammy. I'm not blonde. I'm not googly-eyed. I don't wear some lame-ass hat all the time. I am not a wuss. I am not a feminist. I am not the surrendering type. I am not some vapid vacillating vapor of a man! I am not stupid. I am not dense.

I see the world with eyes wide open. I might not get straight As, but hey, I'm in an Honors English class, aren't I (how that happened, no one knows. Registration snafu, I think...)? Hey, if Casey's in it... I am not a buffoon. Nor am I a clown. And I don't need to hide behind someone else. I am a leader, a trendsetter. I am not a follower. I'm stubborn.

So, naturally, I was too stubborn to let it go. Casey doesn't know what she's talking about. And I'm gonna prove it to her.

"Yeah, except all of this didn't start last night, Casey. And sure, you might not love me, you might not like me... Hell, you might even hate me! That's cool, whatever... But you **can't** deny that we have chemistry. And that will continue to exist regardless of what you say and what you do. Not even _you_ can control how you feel, Case," I retorted confidently, completely assured that I was right. And I was, of course. How could I not be? How close we're standing right now proves it.

Casey groaned in frustration, clenching her fists, like she really wanted to scream. I don't blame her. I'm being a bit of an ass. I'll be the first to admit that. But I'm not the one who's wrong here. That's all her. Period.

And deep down, she knows I'm right.

I fixed her with an even look, sizing her up. Naturally, there was this incredulousity plastered all over her pretty face. How naïve is she? Seriously? I mean, can one person really be that stupid about things like this? Really? Especially someone as smart as Casey?

That's a stretch, even for me.

I leaned in still closer, knowing how much it unnerved her. "You know I'm right, Case," I whispered, leaning in a little further, skimming my hand up the side of her cheek softly. I had her right where I wanted her. Or so I thought, but Casey always throws me for a loop. For a second, she looked dazed, almost caught up in the moment. Her eyes closed, her breathing sped up, that sort of thing...

Then her eyes opened a moment later, and she slapped me so hard I saw stars. And, since I was hungover beyond belief, I was already seeing them. "That kiss meant nothing to me! So stop pressing it," Casey snapped furiously. Her eyes flashed.

That one stung. And not like a bee sting, either. That really... hurt. I don't like this. I don't like these feelings. I don't like having feelings. It totally messes with my head. But I couldn't let her see how much she'd affected me by saying that. I had to say something! But what? "Those kisses, you mean..." I retorted half-heartedly. Casey didn't notice the difference.

She only huffed and stalked off, muttering under her breath. Another wave of nausea hit me, but this time, it wasn't because I was hungover. I slid down the wall, facing the toilet. The air in the bathroom was still humid, and I could almost smell her shampoo in the air. Scratch that. I can smell her shampoo in the air. Fruity floral stuff. Okay, now I really am going to be sick.

With that thought, I remembered that I had yet to wash out my mouth. Ew. No wonder Casey didn't let me kiss her. I groaned, grabbing the towel bar and using it to pull myself into a standing position. My arm muscles ached, but I let go and trudged over to the sink. Methodically, I rinsed out my mouth with water, spat, gargled mouthwash, and spat that out too. Then I turned on the faucet, cleaning the sink. I followed this by hastily rinsing my face.

I picked up a towel off the floor and used it to dry my face, but I didn't look any better than I did before. My skin still maintained that unnatural pallor, which just so happened to make the black circles under my eyes more pronounced. My eyes were feverish, but darker than usual... droopy. My hair was even more of a tangled mess, which was a mixture of textures. Flat and lifeless like I felt. Stiff and hard from the hair gel, yet arranged perfectly. Just like I was, looking great and begging silently for something Casey didn't want to offer. Tousled and warped from sleep. Crazy like I was. My lip, which was split open and swollen from the consequences of yesterday. Then my eyes fell to my neck, noticing the soft purple bruising there in the shape of handprints. I looked the part of a madman, and I was one, obviously.

I mean, jeez... I'm in love with my freakin' stepsister! Do you not think I'm messed up in the head?

Anyways, I still looked like crap. I'm surprised Casey didn't notice anything was off. But then again, she doesn't notice much of anything, now does she?

Do I sound bitter? Yes? Well, then... Good, because I am. I'm bitter and frustrated and LOSING MY MIND. But, you know, other than that, I'm really doing quite well. I haven't got laid in a while, though. That has to be fixed, obviously.

Casey and Sam are perfect for each other. Simply perfection. The two dumbasses are made for each other and I'm a fool for trying to change all that... _love_. God, does Sam even know how she feels? Bah. Well, if he knew what his "girlfriend who loves him completely without question" (assuming, of course, that he knows how she "feels" about him) has done with... me! His best friend, of all people! He'd be shocked and not in a good way at all.

And you know what, I hope he finds out. What can I say? I'm begging for a halfway-decent excuse to kick his sorry, pathetic ass. I don't care what. The first chance I get, I'm going for it. Period. And that, of course, is why I've been throwing myself into hockey this year. And throwing myself at the other players. I'm a bit aggressive. Of course, Sammy never knows what's hit him. I knock the wind out of him, slam him into the glass, throw him into the partitions, aim the puck at his head. He's the goalie too... Most of the time. He just things I'm being my normal competitive self. Well, what the hell does he know?

At least Sammy's innocent. I'll give him that. In my book, that's no compliment, but it does reassure me. At least I don't have to worry about or even think about him nailing her every night. I'm just tormented enough by the fact that her room's across the hall... So close. She's always so close. And I can't do one damn thing about it. Not that that stops me from trying.

Why are those two sickeningly sweet lovebirds so achingly heart-breakingly perfect for each other? You really wanna know? Simple, they're both completely utter morons. Grades really aren't everything. Why're they stupid? Damn, that's one painfully long list, lemme tell you. But I'll tell you why anyways. You can't shut me up. I've got a comment for anything. I'm ready for anything. Well, almost anything.

Casey and Sam are both incredibly lacking in the powers of perception we normal humans are known to possess. They are single-handedly the most oblivious people I have ever met. Considering how many bimbos and dopes I've encountered in my days, that's really saying a lot. And they're so naïve too. Well, Sam moreso than Casey. I don't even bother telling him about my sexual escapades anymore. You say _mènage á trois_, and he thinks you're talking about a company with three managers. Oh, and guess what he thinks a blow job is? The simpleton thinks it's when a girl goes in for a manicure, and the manicurist blows on her nails to make them dry faster. Seriously, how dense can one person be? As I said, he's a total dipstick, naïve as they come.

Casey's different, but that's to be expected. She is of above-average (though I wouldn't call Sam quite average, especially as some of the higher-functioning kids in the Special Ed class surpass him) intelligence, which is far more than I can say for or about Sam. And mind you, he's my best friend. Boy, did he ever luck out there. There's only one thing I want... No, _demand_, in exchange for my valuable friendship, helpful insight, and compassionate looking out for him. And that's his girlfriend. Not that I'll ask that of him right now at this crucial stage in my life. I'll just steal his girlfriend right out from under his nose.

Poor Sammy will never know what hit him. Wow, I almost feel bad. No, wait, that was just this nasty hangover again. Because it all means nothing if Casey doesn't actually break down and admit that she wants me. Sam is a half-wit. He can't keep her entertained that long. Their relationship is so safe, so mindnumbingly puppy-love I want to vomit. Preferably not now and all over Sam's ugly face. You say I've got a lot of venom in me towards my "so-called" best friend. Well, here's the truth. We're only best friends because Sam lives a block away. He's the only guy my age in two blocks. There, got it?

Don't get me wrong, I'll treat him like a best friend for the most part. Except when it comes to girls. Or just Casey. Because I know he doesn't feel the way I do. If he did, he would've fought me on going out with her. He would've done anything in his power to make her his. Oh, wait, the little feminist actually believes that women cannot be possessed. But he didn't do any of that. That would've required him growing a pair of balls, which he is surely lacking. He's just another pretty-boy pansy-ass dimwit without the stones, or for that matter, the guts to ever be anything more than a malleable spineless jellyfish always yielding to the stronger wills and wants of others who have that which he sorely lacks.

Get the picture? Well, good. 'Cause the damn frame's broken! And I dislike that sort of incompetence even more than I dislike Sam.

Anyways, as I was saying about Casey... I don't think it's as much ignorance as it is denial. She knows what's going on. She chooses not to see it and just oh-so conveniently ignore things that are blatantly obvious. She just doesn't want to admit it, of course. Not that I blame her. For the longest time, I was in denial too. But I always knew there was something there. I just didn't want to admit that there were any stupid feelings behind it. I really wish there weren't, but there's no way of denying it anymore. I'm in love with Casey McDonald. Ugh. The girl's last name is a fast food chain and a farmer and her first name just screams Baseball Player. Nothing good's come of these feelings anyways, which is why I'm so averse to love in the first place. Because it's pointless.

And don't give me that crap about bliss and happiness and soulmates and heaven forbid, monogamy. 'Cause that's even bigger crap. I'm not happy. No bliss here. Casey isn't either. Soulmates don't exist. They're some delusion of an idiotic romantic nancy-boy poet like Percy Blysshe Shelley with lame ideals of everlasting love stuck in his head. God, and I still remember that name! Because of her, I actually learned something in school! I actually did work! Hey, at least he was getting action! Oh, and monogamy. Don't get me started on it. I mean, really, don't.

My dad's turned me off that for good. It's crap because all men cheat, and sometimes women do too, and trust me when I say I know that from experience. Fear of commitment, my ass. More like every girl I've ever met gets on my nerves... fast. Most don't last a month. Just long enough to screw 'em and bail, which is just enough time for me.

I think I've made what I want fairly obvious. So Casey has no reason to act surprised or disbelieving. I can't even think of a single way to make myself clearer. Unless I growled "I want you" and then mauled her, or lost any semblance of a mind and any intelligence I've ever possessed and told her "I love you". I'd have to be high, stoned, drunk off my ass, tripping out, asleep, or on muscle relaxants to do anything that imbecilic, moronic, idiotic, ridiculous, senseless, irrational, foolish, doltish, dopey, nitwitted, asinine, boneheaded, brainless, obtuse, thick, witless, anserine, unwise, buffonistic, dumb, and just plain stupid! I'm no two-year-old, okay?

Prissy Prude Princess Casey doesn't like to think about me because I make her think. Because I'm a hell of a challenge, but then again, so is anyone compared to her loser-wuss boyfriend. Even that easy little friend of hers, Emily. She's not used to someone like that. That's why I fight so hard. I don't BS her, for the most part. What you see is what you get. I'm not as complicated as I like to make it seem. She's not used to someone like me screwing up her prim and proper little perfect world. She's not used to someone like me, period. And, no, I am not going to make things easy for her! She's made my life hellish and damn hard in her own way... And I despise complication.

So it's easy for her to cut me out, single me out, write me off, and just mark me as a villain in black and white. And she likes it easy and organized. I do my part to insure that it's neither. That gives me sufficient joy. I like to mix it up in shades of gray and confuse the hell out of her. And she's almost always confused, so it's not that hard. Which is good, because I really like minimal effort.

I'm still in love with her, though. I realized that when she kissed me. I tried to write the feelings off as lust, but I knew they were more. And I couldn't keep saying otherwise. They didn't go away, either, no, not at all, like I'd hoped. I'd hoped to get it all out of my system. I realized it right after she said "I love you", when I smiled and didn't pull away. When I kissed her back with an equal passion and felt a thrill jolt through me. So I was man enough to admit it, and that's why I kissed her again on the couch.

And, you know what? It was both a trick and a treat. Sweet while it lasted, but fleeting. She had been deceived, thought I was Sam. And it hurt me so bad afterwards to try and part. My lips ached and pleaded, bleeding, for hers. I'd invested something in it... a heart I never knew I had. It still hurts right now, but not just a sting or some queasiness or a dull throbbing in my temples. A full-on sharp pain that consumes me. And now I sound like a suicidal sap. Great, just peachy.

So on that one Saturday morning, I realized I was in love with Casey... And Casey realized she was in love with Sam. Yeah, ouch, I know it hurts. But I've never been the kind of guy to dwell on pain or live in self-pity for more than two seconds... Maybe it's A.D.D. I try and make myself feel better, period. I don't give up, enough said.

In my case, getting better means drinks and sex. Right now, my hangover's killing me, so maybe I'll just go for sleep... Not that I'm not leaning towards Option Number Two. I like that one... a lot. Just because I'm in love, something I swore I'd never do (Love is for the weak!), doesn't mean I've changed.

And it doesn't mean I'm any less determined to get the girl. One way... or another.

- Loren ;

Review please! Derek was supposed to bite his lip so hard it split open ('cause I've been biting my lip all night, as I always do) again, but I forgot and am now, at six, too tired to write that in... So here you are... Hope you enjoyed it.


	12. Natural Disaster

Okay, first of all, I would like to apologize for it taking so damn long. I honestly didn't mean for it to take this long, but I got caught up in my other fic, and I really wasn't feeling the muse for this one for the longest time. Plus I hate Casey POV. But here it is, finally done. I'll try not to take as long the next time, okay? Because it's going to be Derek's POV and a pretty good chapter, I think...

Anyways, this chapter's title is not only a good song, but it's a little shout-out to my friend Scented's awesome fic.

Now, I would also like to thank Derek and Heather (because talking to them on IM made me feel guilty enough to force myself to write)... And finally I would really really like to thank so damn gryffindor and all the other people who coerced me into doing this, but mainly so damn gryffindor, because that was just the wake-up call I needed to finally finish the chapter. So you guys really owe it to so damn gryffindor. Lol, though, mind you, I put off my English homework for this. Speaking of which, I really need to do that, so I'm just gonna step on it and update already.

I don't own LWD. Period.

Again, thanks for having patience in me.

* * *

"Derek doesn't care what I do and vice-versa."

* * *

"Casey, just take out the trash already!" Mom pleaded, racing to get ready for work. I could feel my eyes narrow. That is not my job. Well, I'll just have to correct that foolish assumption.

"Mom, that's _Derek's_ job!" I whined back. It's not fair to make me do one of the few things around this place that Derek actually has to do. I mean, I do all my chores. I babysit most of the time, make dinner two nights a week... And then there's about the other five thousand things I do around here. I pull my weight around here, which is more than I can say for him.

Mom fixed me with a severe look. "Well, Casey honey, I don't know where Derek is. So here," She snapped with as much civility as she could, practically throwing the bag in my arm. Eww. Great, so now I get to do Derek's chore. I am so going to kill him when I find him. But I'm a trooper, so I walked outside with the bags unhappily. At least I was ready for school.

When I stepped outside I was surprised to run right into Derek himself. Well, speak of the devil. I almost dropped the trashbag.

There he was, looking cool as ever, leaning against the wall, smoking. He made eye contact with me and turned up the collar of his leather jacket. His eyes seemed to glare at me, but they radiated something else entirely. He glanced at me challengingly, exhaling a perfect ring of smoke. "Casey." He nodded in acknowledgment.

"_Derek_," I replied with some irritation. Derek didn't bat an eyelash. He just continued to lean coolly against the wall, as if I wasn't even there. I hate being ignored. Besides, I really wanted to chew him out about flaking on the garbage. I slowly walked over to the trashcan, waiting to see if he would say anything at all. He didn't, so I slammed the bag in the trash, throwing the lid on. Okay, that's it! I've had it. He is so getting it.

I turned around and before he knew what had hit him, I'd ripped the cigarette out of his hand. I threw it on the ground and stomped it out with my shoe. Derek went from calm to pissed in under sixty seconds. "Casey, what the **hell**!" He growled irritably, staring at me disbelievingly. I fixed him with a severe glare, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Oh, so you _want_ cancer then?" I retorted, whacking him in the chest accidentally. Derek coughed, rubbing his chest. He glared at me and pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his coat pocket as well as a lighter. Well, apparently he doesn't care. He lit the cigarette, glowering at me, and inhaled deeply.

Then he exhaled the putrid smoke right in my face. "Oh, but second-hand smoke **kills**, Casey," He snarled, smoke curling around his lips. Okay, I think it's time for an intervention here. I strained to remember all the facts I could about smoking.

"It turns your teeth yellow!" I proclaimed triumphantly. Derek opened his mouth, grinning widely to prove a point. Not that it was a happy smile. It was more of a smirk, really.

"That's why I use whitening toothpaste," He retorted, exhaling again. He flashed a bright, brilliant, white smile to prove his point. His teeth are amazing, practically blinding. He challenged me with his stare. Okay, so I'm going to have to try harder.

"Your extremities become cold," I exclaimed, crossing my arms over my chest. By extremities, I mean hands, not... Well, you know. Derek snorted, glaring at me.

"My hands are cold already. In case you didn't notice, we happen to live in _Canada_," He countered smugly. Oh, so he thought he was winning? Well, two can play this game. I just have to think of something better.

"Your skin turns yellow, and you get wrinkles faster," I stated bluntly, stepping it up a lot. Derek merely looked amused. Hm, maybe that might actually get to him. He's so vain, after all. I wonder how many hours he spends on my hair.

"I've got good skin. Besides, that sort of thing only matters if you're a girl," Derek muttered flippantly. Which he is so clearly not. Apparently, wrinkles give him character, so he doesn't fear them. Okay, I'm going to have to step it up a notch here. I glared at him, wondering exactly why I was doing this.

"It makes it harder to breathe," I said, struggling to keep my head afloat in this argument. Derek looked at me like I was crazy. He didn't have asthma or anything. He's probably in better shape than I am, actually. And besides, it's not like you run in hockey. You just skate. But I don't really know, since he refuses to let me go to his games... Despite the fact that my boyfriend's on his team too!

Derek regarded me coolly. "I'm in good shape," He said stubbornly, exhaling showily to prove his point. He never coughed on the smoke. I don't get how he can't choke. I need to write some more poetry... I'm rhyming about Derek. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time I've rhymed about Derek... In fact, I've got one notebook filled with poetry about "Life With Derek" for every month I've been here. Those are a lot of poems, my friend.

"You smell like smoke," I muttered, coughing on the air and trying to fan it away. Ick. How have I never noticed that he was a smoker before? His laundry has smelled like smoke before, but I thought that was because he was always hanging out at clubs. And his jacket always smells like smoke.

Derek just shrugged distractedly, looking entirely unaffected. He always looks unaffected. Does he ever get rattled by something? Anything! Even when I was... uh, choking him... he was still the smug bastard I've always known him to be. "_Some_ girls like that," Derek mumbled disinterestedly. He was just staring off into space.

You see... Derek's been acting pretty weird lately. Normally, he would jump at any chance to irritate me. Or, as of lately, hit on me. But he's been ignoring me, and that's just so... not Derek. "And it makes **other** girls gag," I said snidely, shooting Derek a look. Girls. I knew that would affect him. They're all he thinks about, really.

But Derek barely even looked up. He just tilted his head up and exhaled a plume of smoke. His eyes remained fixed on the sky, pointedly avoiding looking at me. Something had changed with Derek. "Not the ones _I _date..." He replied calmly with a bit of a suggestive air. Ugh, I gag thinking about his bimbos. He glanced briefly at me, dark eyes flicking over me.

Now we were on familiar ground. Derek's being a pervert again. Okay, I can deal with this. I felt slightly more confident. At least he was paying attention to me now. I rolled my eyes. Smoking is unhealthy and just plain gross. And Derek is disgusting enough without the cancer sticks. I frowned distastefully. "Your mouth tastes like an ashtray. No one will _ever_ want to kiss you again," I pointed out tactlessly.

Derek rolled his eyes and snorted. He wasn't buying any of it. Ugh, he's too damn confident for his own good. I know he's lucky with girls, but you can't get that lucky. I don't care how much _charisma_ he has. I might just be the only person on the planet that isn't falling for him and his lies. "First of all, I **highly** doubt that. And that's why I use mouthwash. Besides, what concern is that of yours? It's not like _you_ want to kiss me..." Derek countered darkly. He turned the full force of his glare on me.

His eyes darkened even further, and I could tell he was angry. Why was he angry though? Oh, what, was I ruining his smoking break? He gave up that right to privacy a while ago. "Shut _up_, Derek. And get that **godforsaken** cancer stick out of your mouth," I ordered authoritatively. But Derek just rolled his eyes.

For a few minutes, he said nothing, trying to pretend that I hadn't either. But then, I saw the hard look on his face. He looked determined. So I was stunned when he pushed himself off the wall, striding towards me purposefully. I gulped nervously, but for once, Derek didn't smirk. His eyes burned into me, stabbing into me. "Why do you even care? You hate me, remember? Remember? You **hate** me. I make your skin _crawl_. You **despise** _everything_ about me. You've despised me since Day One, _remember_?" Derek snapped resentfully, throwing my own words back at me. Suddenly, I felt terrible. Had those words actually hurt him? They were so cruel, so heartless... Like something Derek would say. But even he's never said anything that bad.

I took a deep breath and started. "You're my brother. And I highly doubt that poisonous substances are good for you. And guess what's in those death sticks of yours... Tar, which is also used on roads and made out of crude oil. Nicotine, one of the most addictive substances known to man. Ammonia, which is in bleach and urine. Urea, which is again, in urine. Hydrogen cyanide, which is in rat poison. Carbon monoxide, which kills you silently. Arsenic and Mercury, other poisons. DDT, an insecticide that's now banned. Toluene and acetone, ingredients in nail polish. Methane gas, which cows fart every day. Laughing gas. Numerous acids. Benzene and Butane. Formaldehyde, which is used to preserve dead bodies. Not to mention all the various radioactive substances like radon, radium-226, lead-210, and polonium-210. Just to name a few," I stated matter-of-factly, rattling them off.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Nice laundry list you've got there, Case. But what you forgot to mention is that a lot of the ingredients are actually harmless, and I'm not addicted to them. I can stop anytime I want. Trust me, I know cigarettes hurt," He interjected, actually having a bit of a point. But nicotine's addictive. You have to be really strong to get over it. And for some reason, I don't think Derek's got that kind of internal fortitude.

I crossed my arms over my chest skeptically. "What, did your mom die of lung cancer?" I remarked casually. It came off a lot ruder than I meant, but I hadn't meant in an offensive way. No one ever talked about Derek's mom. Ever. I was curious.

I have never seen Derek _that_ furious in my life, and believe me, I've gotten him pretty mad before. Out of nowhere, he shoved me backwards, and suddenly, I was pinned flat against the wall. My back was only tingling a little. My eyes were as wide as saucers. I don't know how, but he was in my face before I knew it. It's weird for me to say this, since I've, well, you know... But somehow that was the closest he'd ever been to me.

His stare locked with mine. I was blown away by the sheer fury I saw there. He leaned in to whisper in my ear. He didn't seem affected by my prescence in the slightest this time. "If you _ever_ mention my mother again, I'll make you wish you were never born. Got it, McDonald?" Derek hissed venemously, abruptly jerking his head back, searching me with his gaze. I couldn't speak; I was terrified. I managed to nod weakly, and Derek nodded succintly before moving away.

I sighed, relieved. Derek didn't say anything. He simply stared out at the street. I don't know what he was waiting for, really. I wanted to say something, but I was afraid. Finally, an with unreadable, distant look on his face, he turned back around again and walked over to me. He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and pulled up his sleeve, as if to show me something. He met my eyes briefly.

"But there are things worse than physical pain," Derek said, sounding oddly mysterious. Then he responded by bringing the lit end of the cigarette down on the middle of his forearm. For a moment, I was stunned. I glanced at Derek's face. He grimaced a little, but other than that, showed only minimal expression. He didn't make a sound. He just bit his lip. You couldn't even tell if it was hurting him, but it had to be. What was he trying to do? Be tough?

Almost reflexively, I slapped his hand and knocked the cigarette out of his fingers. I promptly stomped on it, and Derek only stared at me in surprise. That was when it became clear to me that something was very, very wrong here. I glanced down at his arm. It was a small reddish pink circle with a few white hot ashes scattered about. It looked bad, but not as bad as it could've been. It might not even leave a scar.

Without thinking, I gently wiped away the ashes that still remained, and, grabbing him by the wrist, I pulled him inside. Derek blinked confusedly. I dragged him past a very bamboozled family and into the bathroom. I knew from experience that the first thing you do with a burn is rinse it in cool water. It makes it feel better. I placed Derek's arm under the faucet and did so before applying some Neosporin and then a band-aid. Then I washed my hands and both of us left the bathroom.

When we got out, I couldn't help but notice Derek was smirking at me. I rolled my eyes at him. What is it now, I wondered. It turns out I didn't even have to ask. Derek had apparently had a moodswing because he smiled widely at me. "Looks like you _do_ care about me after all," He muttered underneath his breath, thinking I didn't hear him. Only I did, and that only confused me more. Then he looked over at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and ruffling my hair. He looked happier than he'd been in a while. "Come on, I'll drive you to school..." He offered, walking outside with me. Derek never offered to drive me anywhere, so I jumped at the offer.

My first classes were pleasant enough, I suppose, but they weren't earth-shattering. And then it came time for Gym. Now, I detest Gym for several reasons. One would be because of the whole Klutzilla thing. Another would be the general humiliation. And the final reason is... of course... Derek. He's in my Gym class, and he never lets me forget it.

It began normally. Coach told us we would be playing Dodgeball. I despise Dodgeball above all other "sports", mind you. It's an unfair, excessively violent game that deliberately targets the weak. And is it ever painful! It's even worse when you play with guys. I still haven't gotten used to co-ed gym. Naturally, Derek is an expert at it. Coach, who has an IQ of approximately six, declared that it would be Boys vs. Girls. Naturally, he chose Derek as captain of the boys team. Well, that was obvious. But then, wonder of wonders, mystery of mysteries, he chooses me as captain of the girls team.

As is anything involving Derek and myself, the game grew intense fast. Somehow we both managed to pump up our teams into a competitive frenzy, battling for every point. We would come close to winning and then someone would manage to get the whole team back up and vice-versa. That being said, it didn't stop some of the stupider team members from repeatedly checking out members of the opposite sex. Derek himself was a particular target of admiring eyes. Ugh, it disgusts me.

That being said, Derek's team won the first game. I soon learned just how little mercy he had. He got me out five times. Five. In fact, he seemed to specifically target me, of all people. A fact which, knowing Derek, really didn't surprise me. The next game, I compensated by getting him out twice. Hey, I used to play softball... He's not the only one who can throw hard. And by hard, I mean that it knocks the wind out of you, and you're worried about bruising. Yeah, ouch.

We won the next game through great effort and a wonderful speech on my part about the terrible things Derek had done and why not to look at him. And then we were tied. Everyone went crazy on the third game, fighting hard to win everyone back in so there was never a clear winner. But somehow, both of the people on our teams who fought for these things got out. And then it was just me standing alone on a barren wasteland, crowded at the sides, with Derek standing fiercely across from me. We each held two balls: one for throwing and one for defense. We'd both been out three times. I was improving; Derek was slipping.

There were two things we could do. One of us could try for the elusive shot to get everyone on their time back, surely spelling out the other team's doom. But that was a risky move, and if you did that, you risked losing if you missed or if the other person hit you. Or you could try and hit the other person, but they could just as easily block it with the balls. So we were pretty much at a stalemate.

We stared each other down, waiting for the other person to make the first move. No one did anything. No one even said anything. The room was tense with our rivalry, tense with suspense. But still, neither of us did anything. We were like statues, not even moving. Just staring each other down. Our gazes locked, and I don't think either of us could've looked away if we tried. That would mean backing down, and that's something we just don't do.

And then, as we stood there waiting for someone to make a move, the bell rung. The rest of the class ran out, but Derek and I both stayed. We didn't budge an inch. We were determined not to back down. Finally, Coach cleared his throat. "Venturi! McDonald! ...You can, um, go now..." He barked awkwardly.

Both Derek and I looked at him, and then we snapped out of it. We immediately dropped the balls, still tense and annoyed that we'd reached a stalemate. We shot each other vicious glances and then turned and exited out of opposing doors. When I got in the locker room, I was met head-on by pretty much all the girls in my gym class. I blinked in confusion.

"What was that about?" One girl asked. What, just what am I supposed to say? Oh, yeah, Derek sort of made out with me two weeks ago, and things have been super-awkward ever since? Yeah, that'll go over really well. I sighed and broke through them.

"Nothing, nothing... Things have just been... completely crazy around the house lately. It's... Weird," I mumbled, rushing over to my locker, hurrying to open it so I wouldn't have to face the questions I couldn't answer. I fumbled with my clothing, sensing Emily coming up to ask me a question. I pulled on my jeans, threw my gym shorts in the locker, and ripped my shirt off, which sent ripples of pain through my back, which had bruised to that nasty yellowy-green color. The bruises on my hips were a dark purple, so dark it was almost black.

I'd somehow managed to get used to them, though. I was careful and light, so it didn't hurt much. But Emily must've seen them, because she gasped, looking at me strangely. Then she pulled me aside, thwarting my attempt to get the new shirt over my head. "Casey, are you okay?" Emily questioned concernedly. I gave her a weird look and nodded, pulling my shirt over my head.

But Emily was still looking at me weirdly. "You sure?" She persisted. I nodded again, feeling vaguely annoyed. I walked past her and started to put on my socks. I looked up to grab my shoes, and suddenly, there she was. I jumped about twelve feet in the air.

Clutching my chest, I glared at her. "Jeez, Em! Don't ever do that again!" I exclaimed, trying to catch my breath. She still fixed me with a decidedly funny look, like she thought I was hiding something. "**What**!" I shrieked irritably.

Emily looked vaguely uncomfortable. What's wrong with her? She peered at her feet, deliberately trying to avoid my eyes. What is it? "Well, Casey... it looks like..." Emily started to say, but then stopped cold. Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave her a look. Come on, Em, just spill it already! Emily glanced around and then leaned in to whisper it in my ear. "It looks like... like you got RAPED," Emily hissed, backing away nervously.

My jaw dropped. The bruises can't be that bad. Can they? I stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. I really couldn't think of anything to say. I sat down on the bench and started to put my shoes on. "Well, that's not what happened," I said quietly. I didn't look at her. "If you _must_ know, Derek and I got into a... fight," I muttered darkly.

Wow, Casey... That's an interesting way of saying what Derek did to you. Now, if I recall correctly, and I always do... You were the one who attacked him. Oh, shut up! I glanced up to find Emily gaping at me. She sat down next to me on the bench, looking shell-shocked. "_Derek_ did that to you!" She whispered, eyes wide. Oh, no... She thinks Derek and I got physical. Okay, that sounds so wrong... and so much like what actually happened.

I shook my head, feeling somewhat horrified. "No... Uh, it happened at the party. He was sort of pushing away, I was sort of, um, not going with that... And I kind of tried to strangle him the other morning, so it all works out. Really. Doesn't even hurt," I stuttered, feeling nervous. Emily gave me a look. Okay, so she might not completely buy it... But that can be fixed... right?

Emily raised an eyebrow. "You tried to strangle him?" She asked skeptically. Oh, and here I thought she was going to ask something scary... She didn't mention the dancing. Phew. It's weird that she doesn't believe that part, though, the strangling is sort of the only part I'm not really lying about. I nodded a bit frustratedly.

"Yeah... Lizzie and Edwin had to pull me off of him. It got sort of crazy. You know what they say... When the parents are away, the kids will play," I said casually, as if I wasn't talking about how I'd almost killed Derek two weeks ago. Not that he was very affected by it at all. Derek never is...

I mean, okay, I don't normally think about Derek in my free time. It's just complicated... He's simultaneously everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Does that sound as confusing as it is? To make matters worse, our English teacher thought up another project, and, well, this time she actually assigned partners. We're supposed to do a scene from a Midsummer Night's Dream. Derek despises Shakespeare. You don't even have to look at him to know that. But, of course, it couldn't be that easy... No, I'm stuck playing Titania with him as my Oberon.

No, no, not my Oberon. Just Oberon... Do they share any scenes that aren't sort of romantic? Yeah, I didn't think so. Despite a lot of pleading on my part ("He's my stepbrother! You can't seriously expect me to perform a romantic scene with _him_!"), it was to no avail. She said that for one, it was far too late to change partners now that everyone already had them. Then she pointed out and I quote; "Derek seems to have no objections." Well, of course Derek has no objections! I swear, the guy's been trying to jump me for the better part of a month! She continued to point out that; "You two presented a report as Percy and Mary Shelley, a married couple. And if you can do that, then why can't you do this?" I almost killed her right there on the spot... Ugh, the way Derek was smirking at me so... so... infuriatingly!

And that's why I really hate to say this... Why I hate the fact that he's got me thinking about him again. Here it is, lunch time, and I'm staring at Derek across the lunchroom, surrounded by desperate girls. I swear, are they trying to be the newest notch on his bedpost? I'm not joking, that's the sad part. He keeps track on the back of his bedpost. That and I'm sure there's some little book somewhere with all the dirt inside.

The thing is... I'm worried about him. Really, really worried about him. There, I said it! Ugh, who could imagine me, Casey McDonald, worrying about Derek Venturi, of all people? Well, that's the reality... I...

Okay, this is how it is... Derek's changed a lot over the past few weeks. Some would even call drastic. He thinks that I don't notice. He probably thinks no one notices, but Derek is about as subtle as a drunk mastodon. That's a fitting analogy considering he comes home bombed five days out of seven, sometimes even six. I pity his poor liver. About half the time there's some similarly wasted chippy with him, and the other half of the time, someone sober (usually Sam or Amy) helps him in. He never talks to me when he's drunk. He just gets really stiff and tries not to act wasted. If he sees me, even if we lock eyes, he'll pretend I'm not there.

Pride's a stupid thing, but I guess it's all Derek's got, since he lacks modesty or shame.

It's not just that he's hopelessly wasted over half the week, or that he smokes so much his voice is scratchy. He smells differently now, and not a good different... He smells like cigarette smoke, booze, sweat, and sex, which pretty much sums up his activities nowadays.

He's been avoiding doing his chores and slacking on his homework even more lately. Not that that really surprises me. I'm used to that. He did that before at every possible opportunity. Regardless of Derek's questionable sanity, drinking that much is never a good sign. And he never used to be a smoker before.

And then, of course, there's the girls. I swear, all he ever does now is party, drink, hockey, and girls. For me, the girls are the worst part of the whole ordeal. I thought he was bad before... What did I know? Before he just dated them, and that was really all we ever saw of them, if we ever saw them at all. He never brought girls to "stay over". Nah, "stay over" or "sleep over", those aren't appropriate words for what he does with them.

First of all, he never _really_ sleeps. Secondly, they don't stay very long... He must have them trained well. He's just lucky Mom and George sleep in the basement and go to bed early. **They** don't have to hear anything. However, my room's right next door to his. I don't even want to mention some of the horrid things I've had to hear. Really, I am not kidding... It's that bad.

It's not like I went into this thinking that Derek was a virgin. Far from that, actually. I always knew he did _things_. He just wasn't tacky enough to do them here. Or maybe he's just stupid. And I don't know why... I don't know what's up with this sudden change of heart. Oh, who am I kidding? Derek has no heart!

That's the reason why he makes them clear out as soon as possible after the deed's done. It's not even that he brings them home now (sometimes in large groups even) that bugs me. It's the volume of girls in a month. He has a new one (or one_s_) practically every night... Everywhere, anywhere he wants.

When Derek's girls are over, I make Lizzie and Marti go stay with Edwin, which is a huge annoyance to all parties involved. Except, of course, Derek. He doesn't know. Sometimes those girls stay over for hours... Makes you wonder how much endurance you can get playing hockey. Or Cheerleading or Dance or Soccer... Whatever sport his girls happen to play. I'm stuck playing look out, which means that I have to listen (not that I like it. Derek hates it when I play music, and he threatened me with violence if I did. Or something to that effect) and watch for the girls to leave.

I try and read or study most of the time. Let me tell you, some of those girls are noisy enough to wake the dead! It's really hard to ignore all the moans and grunts and screams... The sound I hate most of all (aside from when they scream his name), however, is the bedsprings creaking. It's like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. I shouldn't have to hear my stepbrother having sex in the next room. It's just not right!

Sometimes I think he does it on purpose, knowing that I'm in the room next to him... Knowing that I have to hear him. Though Derek's not the noisy one. Don't get me wrong, he lets out the occasional moan, and groans and grunts a bit, but that's it. The girls are, though. I really don't think he hasn't brought one over who wasn't noisy.

There are other things too... Like, for instance, he has no modesty anymore. He routinely walks around the house shirtless, in just a towel, or in only his boxers. Even when there's company over. And he acts differently towards Sam. He's all bitter and snarky, and he gets angry four times as fast as he did before. Not that Derek wasn't tempermental or snarky before, but he wasn't to his best friend. And he sure wasn't bitter.

I asked Sam if he knew why Derek was acting so weirdly. Sam pointed out that I lived with him, so I would know, right? Grr, not helpful, Sweetie! Then I asked Sam if he and Derek had had a falling out or something. No, they had not had a falling out. Derek had just been extra-mean lately. He made excuses for Derek... Oh, well, he needs to get laid... Sam put that in a much more delicate way. I'm using Derek's wording...

And then, I, of course, pointed out that Derek was getting four hundred percent more action than previously, so that wasn't it. Sam then proceeded to blame it on hangovers, which is a theory with actual merit. I've never had a hangover or anything, so I'm not particularly sure, but don't they wear off after a while? Like, for instance, when Derek's at hockey practice after school... He's really violent, even moreso than before. And don't think I don't notice that he slams Sam against the wall twice as much as any other guy. I even saw him trip Sam once. Sam completely wiped out and got a bloody nose. Yeah, that's really not an accident. That's when it becomes a problem.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I went to Paul about it. As unbelievable as it sounds, Paul had never actually met Derek. I dreaded the conversation, but I knew I had to talk to someone about it. I had no idea what to do about him, but I knew I had to intervene somehow.

He started out by asking me how things were going, and I told him good, they were going well. Simple enough. He asked me then what did I want to talk about. I wondered how exactly to phrase it. I suppose I'll just wing it. "Um, Paul... What do you do if your... um, friend... is doing some things that aren't really healthy for them?" I asked awkwardly. Well, gee, Casey, that went well. Could you be any more obvious?

Paul frowned slightly, giving me a look. He contemplated my words for a minute. "It depends on what the friend is doing," He said wisely, implying that I should say what my "friend" was doing.

Hmm, that's a mighty long list with Derek. I wondered where to begin. "A better question would be what _isn't_ the friend doing," I muttered with a scowl. Paul raised an eyebrow, motioning for me to continue. I bit my lip, worried that I was going to violate some code and sell him out. "Um, drinking, smoking, acting strangely, and, uh, jumping anything with a pulse?" I replied hesitantly.

This time, Paul raised both eyebrows, a bit shocked that I would know anyone so messed up. He mulled his words over carefully, for they could be affecting someone's life. They were weighty words. "Then I'd say your friend is self-destructive. Most self-destructive behavior is rooted in a pathological need for attention... Attention that person isn't getting. However, self-hatred can also cause self-destructive behavior. Either way, this behavior is a warning sign and most likely a cry for help. Has your friend been talking about death, inflicting pain on himself or herself, or attempting suicide?" Paul launched into a ramble of psychobabble.

Derek had deliberately burned himself today, but did that really count? I decided that no, it didn't. Especially as Derek hadn't done any of the other things. So I shook my head no. Paul pursed his lips, staring thoughtfully into space. He seemed to relax a little, looking slightly relieved. "First of all, how long has your friend been behaving strangely?" He questioned calmly.

I bit my lip, trying in vain to recall when he'd started to act weird. Was it last Monday? Hmm, what about Sunday? Nah... Saturday, I think. He was normal before Saturday, er, at least mostly. So that's how many days, exactly? Well, it's Thursday today... You know what, I'm just going to round off here. "About two weeks, almost three," I answered casually. But my apparent nonchalance was all a facade. I really felt antsy and nervous.

Paul just nodded, a slightly curious look on his face. "Can you think of anything that might have caused this behavior? Did something happen around the time it started?" He inquired slowly. I thought back all those days ago... Had it really been eighteen days since then? And then it hit me, and the air drained from my lungs. I paled drastically. It couldn't be! But the dates fit... No, that's crazy. I mean, come on, why would Derek be affected by one little... He wouldn't. That's just it. I'm clearly delusional to even entertain the possibility of such a foolish thought.

I nodded grimly, only slightly bobbing my head, and swallowed hard. His next words cut into me similarily. "Do you have any idea whose attention your friend may be seeking?" He prodded gently. I gulped. Oh, yeah, Paul, I have a sneaking suspicion.

No, you know... Just because of what happened two weeks ago... That doesn't mean that he's acting this way because of me. It doesn't mean that all this is my fault. Who knows, maybe he wants George's attention? Then again, Derek's never been the sort of guy who's had to fight for attention. He's the sort of guy you give attention to whether you want to or not. And Derek knows that. So... So it can't be me, right?

I shrugged helplessly, waiting for some advice on what to do. I didn't come in here to start second-guessing myself. I came in here to figure out what's wrong with Derek and how to fix it. I need to fix it. I never thought I'd be talking this way about _Derek's_ problems in a million years. In fact, I didn't even think Derek had problems... Okay, I did, but not these types of problems. But I suppose life's like that. It never turns out the way you think it's going to.

Like I never thought I would actually ever in my right mind ki... I'm not going to finish that thought. "I'd advise confronting your friend about their problems first. Then, depending on their response, go to an authority figure with your suspicions," Paul advised wisely, steepling his fingers. There it was: my answer. I nodded, thanking him, and got up to leave. I knew what I had to do. I had to confront Derek.

I walked home with a purpose. I had to talk to him, simple as that. However, when I got home, I found Derek half-naked on the couch with some blonde. Hate to ruin your date, Derek, but it must be done. Especially as she's starting to unzip his jeans. I cleared my throat, grinning evilly. "What, Derek, you couldn't even wait to get to your bedroom?" I asked sharply, disdain evident in my tone.

The girl immediately sat up, jumping off Derek. Her face flushed when she saw me. Oh, great... I actually know this one. Mary from English. Ha, isn't that ironic? Guess she's more of a Mary Madgalene, then. Mary glanced around, probably looking for her shirt. Well, well... I have seriously underestimated Derek's sexual prowess. She doesn't even have her bra off yet. I might as well help her out, right?

"Mary, your shirt's under the couch," I pointed out, gesturing to where it was. Mary turned beet red and pulled the shirt over her head in one motion. She put on her shoes and rushed out of the house in two seconds. As I said previously, Derek has absolutely no shame. So he didn't even look remotely embarrassed by me catching him making out with a girl. In fact, he merely looked pissed off.

He didn't even bother to zip up his jeans at first. I scowled. Ew. Derek got up lazily, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why do you have to ruin everything? I was about to get to second base!" Derek growled, looking at me as if I had just killed his best friend. Though in his eyes, I think my dating Sam is equivalent to Sam dying. I rolled my eyes at him, disbelieving. I can't believe he can actually be so horny. I mean, what's one night without getting laid, really?

"Derek, is that all you think about? Having sex?" I questioned irritably. Derek seemed to contemplate it for a moment before I decided that I really, really did not want to hear about my stepbrother's overactive sex life. I shook my head, feeling stupid. "Never mind. We **need** to talk," I stated bluntly, grabbing Derek by the wrist. Derek raised his eyebrows, looking down at where my hand was grabbing his, and smirked.

Derek looked at me through half-lidded eyes, bemused. "Apparently we do," He murmured flirtatiously. I rolled my eyes at him. You know, just because I've kissed him doesn't mean that I'm one of _his_ girls. I happen to possess a functioning brain, for starters. And I can think about things that don't involve Derek. Plus, I don't want him, no, not at all. I felt the anger grow inside of me, and I jerked him up the stairs with an almost inhuman force.

Derek, who was shirtless, by the way, stumbled after me. Even then, he still wasn't rattled. "I never thought _you_ were the type that liked it rough," Derek mumbled suggestively. When he said that, I practically flung him into the wall. As usual, however, Derek took everything with stride. He only looked slightly surprised at my violence. But Derek likes it rough, obviously, so I don't really think he cares.

"And I never thought I was living with an **alcoholic**!" I screeched furiously. Derek's jaw tightened at the accusation. He looked very, very infuriated. Slowly, with a practiced cool, he pushed himself off the wall. His eyes blazed like amber fire as he stalked towards me. He got close, all up in my face.

"I'm _not_ an alcoholic," His voice was low and gravelly. Oh, really? Then what the hell do you call coming home drunk practically every night? Derek's tone was firm, unyielding as he was. Maybe it wasn't that he... Maybe he just thought that he wasn't an alcoholic. He could easily be in denial... But all that damage he's doing to his liver is just awful!

I backed up a little, feeling slightly nervous. He'd come close enough to me to prove a point. I could plainly smell that there was no liquor on his breath. So what? Big whopping deal. He always gets drunk later. That doesn't prove anything. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Please, there's no way I buy that. "Yeah, Derek, you just come home wasted every night... Big difference there!" I snapped, throwing my hands in the air.

Derek glowered at me, but he didn't deny it. He couldn't deny it... because it was true. And saying anything would only confirm that I was right. And, of course, Derek couldn't do that because it would mean backing down. So he was sober now. He'd be drunk again in a few hours. You know, maybe I ought to be telling Derek this. I took a breath to calm myself before I started. "Derek, the way you've been acting lately... It's not healthy," I began hesitantly. Derek rolled his eyes at me, like I was the crazy one.

Didn't he see that I was just trying to help him? I had to do this. "Derek, I'm serious. If you keep engaging in risky behavior-" I stated seriously, but Derek interrupted me. He rolled his eyes once again, uncrossing his arms. He approached me once more, clearly not appreciating my attempt at rescuing him. He gave me this look that screamed "oh, please", shooting me a hostile look. This Derek scared me a little bit. Okay, he scared me more than a little bit.

Derek interrupted me impatiently, "I **know** what I'm doing, Casey." He said that so casually, so caustically... Like it was nothing. I hate how he's so cocky about everything. He thinks he knows best. Well, Derek doesn't know best. Doesn't he realize that everything he's doing could endanger his life? He could get cancer! He could die of alcohol poisoning or cirrhosis of the liver! Not to mention drunk driving, even though he never drives... I mean, he's not that stupid. Not to mention that he could die in a fight or go to jail or kill himself or become addicted to drugs or something... Oh, and then there's the promiscuity! He could get an STD. He could get HIV, which would then become AIDS, and he could DIE!

And why do I care, exactly?

Because, Casey, he's still your brother. Even if he's your stepbrother. And, somehow, I still care. Because I'm not like Derek. I actually care about people, and I treat them decently. I grabbed Derek hard by the shoulders and shook him hard enough to make him realize that I was serious. He looked surprised. So surprised that he had to blink at me and regain his balance. Don't tell me he's buzzed again! I continued on my rampage. "This isn't a joke, Derek. If you keep pulling crap like this, you're going to wind up in trouble," I pointed out, as sober as a heart-attack.

Derek glanced pointedly down at my hands on his shoulders, eyes slowly returning to my face. "Maybe I like ending up _in_ trouble," Derek remarked somewhat suggestively. My jaw dropped open a little bit. Even when I'm trying to be serious... When I'm trying to save his sorry behind... He acts like a total ass! I threw Derek an exasperated look. I swear, he has the dirtiest mind I have ever encountered. Immediately, I dropped my hands, shoving him back a little like that would actually help.

A little distance only ever seems to make Derek want to come closer. "Derek, you could _die_! Don't you **realize** that? You could get an STD or cancer or alcohol poisoning!" I screamed frustratedly, flinging my hands in the air dramatically. Derek shot me a cool look, the frost in his eyes alarming me. Without even thinking (then again, when does Derek ever think?), Derek moved towards me somewhat menacingly.

He scowled bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, sure... _Now_ you care. **Now** you give a _damn_ about what happens to me. Well, it _just_ figures, doesn't it, Case?" Derek sneered, looking down his nose at me. I didn't get what he meant. What on Earth was he talking about? It just figures...? What just figures? Why is he being so vague and confusing? Derek's generally a pretty blunt guy. He usually makes things pretty clear.

I frowned, exasperated. "Derek, I **care**, okay! You're still my _brother_!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, trying to understand him. At first, Derek looked somewhat taken aback. I guess it is surprising for me to say that after all those awful things I said to him. Then his eyes turned flinty and the look on his face hardened.

"I'm _not_ your brother," He snapped almost violently. I hated the knowing look he sent me. It brought back unwanted memories. It's bad enough I relive those frantic moments in my dreams. I've been having those nightmares every night for the past two weeks. I hate it, waking up sweaty, tossing and turning, shaking. Ugh. I hate Derek too, for what he did. But I hated him before anyways, so it doesn't really matter.

I sighed, tugging on my hair. Why couldn't he just accept that I wanted to help him? Somebody has to before he destroys himself. "Derek, _please_..." I asked, sighing again. Derek smiled slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. He leaned against the wall, eyes fluttering closed. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was up to something.

Derek sighed, getting even more comfortable against the wall. "Say my name again," He murmured, almost moaning. I felt vaguely grossed out... really grossed out. I shook my head. He didn't get it. I'm not one of those girls, firstly. He's not taking any of this seriously. I'll just go tell George then.

I turned around to storm off and was halfway down the stairs when I felt Derek grab my arm. I jerked away from him. I don't want his hands on me. Really, who knows where they've been? Probably everywhere. I mean, the guy's with a new girl every night... sometimes more. My exit would've been grand, but I tripped and went sailing down the stairs. Derek grabbed my arm in an attempt to steady me, or, well, something... I took him down with me. Is it wrong to be sort of proud of that? We wound up in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of the stairs.

I winced, feeling new bruises forming and old ones aching. Derek was directly on top of me and was enjoying it far too much. I tried to move, but he just pressed me down, so I wound up wiggling right against him. I stopped immediately. He doesn't need any more encouragement. I pushed against Derek. "Derek, get off me! It's bad enough I have to hear you screwing half of Canada in the room next to me every night, but trying to force yourself on me? That's a new low, even for you," I snarled, still struggling. Derek smirked down at me.

He straightened up a little, a proud look appearing on his face. "You're just mad because you want to be in the room with me," Derek replied cockily. I could literally feel myself shaking with anger. He is so SMUG. And I would never, ever, ever want to be in the room with him. With or without the other girl(s). Ugh. That would mean... ew. Ew, ew, ew.

I made a face at Derek and shoved him off of me. You know what, I might as well go upstairs. Emily's supposed to call me anyways. And I did try to help Derek. After all, that's all that counts, right? I'm going to tell George. I'll give Derek a day. Then I'm telling George everything. Someone has to stop him, after all, or Derek's going to destroy himself. I stood up and walked past Derek, not even glancing back at him. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. I bet that's just what he wants anyways.

I started to absentmindedly write poetry until the phone rang. As expected, it was Emily with the gossip of the day. Somehow Emily always knows all the gossip, so I was figuring it was about Ashley and Mike's break-up today in History. Naturally, it wasn't. Actually, she completely surprised me. "Oh, Casey, that reminds me... I have something to tell you!" Emily chirped so cheerfully that my ears hurt.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't in the mood for this. That last conversation with Derek had just put me on edge a little, you know? But Emily was my friend, and Lord knows she's listened to me rant about the boy she likes day after day after day... But that would mean that she likes talking about it because she likes hearing about Derek. Hmm, but probably not about how much I hate him. "What?" I asked, fighting down the feelings of irritation.

Emily giggled loudly over the line. Her laughter suddenly sounded like a bombing. My ears hurt, and I was beginning to develop a headache. Plus, I still had so much homework to do, and I didn't need any stupid distractions like this. I sighed impatiently, rubbing my temples and waiting for Emily to talk. "You know Chrissy's party last weekend?" She began, sounding so very excited. I made a feeble grunting noise, hoping she'd get the picture. Emily did, continuing on brightly. Well, isn't someone Little Miss Mary Sunshine today.

"I made out with Derek!" Emily exclaimed, sounding absolutely ecstatic. I could just picture her now. Her eyes would be bright and alight with joy. Her hair would be springy and bouncy. She would be screaming and throwing her fists in the air victoriously. And then she'd do some sort of stupid dance. But... Wait, she...

"You did WHAT?" I screeched, feeling my eyes widen drastically. I was so surprised that I almost dropped the phone. My jaw went slack, mouth gaping open, and for what seemed like an eternity, no words came to mind. Derek not only kissed Emily, but made out with her? Did he try to go further? I mean, this is Emily. He knows how she feels about him... And for cripes' sake, she's our next-door neighbor, and my best friend. My only friend, really. Oh, no, this can mean nothing good... I forced myself to calm down, slowing my racing thoughts. I inhaled deeply, trying to be calm.

I don't quite think it's working. "Emily... Don't jump to conclusions. That was practically a week ago. If Derek didn't call you up already; he's probably not going to," I advised wisely. It's not that I'm an expert on guys or anything. But I am an expert on Derek. Ems might've known him longer, but she's blinded by affection... And I live with him, so I know first-hand how much of a jerk he can be. I should've been nicer about it, or at least a little less blunt... because I'm sure that was not what she wanted to hear.

Her voice rose an octave. "Can't you just be happy for me for one minute! You _know_ how much I like him, and now that something's finally happened between us..." Emily shouted frustratedly. She obviously didn't want to hear me telling her this. But, let's face it... Emily's not exactly Derek's type. Then again, that's saying that he has a type. But she's not easy and stupid... you know? I just don't want her to jump into anything she doesn't want to do because of Derek.

It's always been pretty clear to me that Derek has no real interest in Emily. I feel bad for her, really I do, but she's way too good for Derek anyways. I wouldn't be surprised if he was drunk. Still, that was no excuse for leading her on. Even Derek couldn't possibly be that cruel. I sighed, trying to find a gentler way to explain it to her. "Look, Em, you don't know Derek like I do. You haven't seen what I've seen. You haven't seen him walk in here every night, wasted. You haven't seen all the girls he brings home. You haven't interrupted one of his make-out sessions. And you have no idea how thin the walls are in this house. I hear _everything_. So trust me, Emily, when I say that you are better off without Derek Venturi," I stated firmly, trying to convey a little compassion.

But Emily wasn't biting. She was on the fast train to hysterical. "No!" Emily shrieked, "No! You're lying!" Doesn't she realize how futile her denial is? Derek doesn't feel that way about her. Derek is an ass. Derek is a trainwreck. You could practically catch an STD by just looking at him. Emily didn't get all that, though. She sounded so desperate, so hard pressed to believe in him. But what was there to believe in? Derek was so... so shallow.

What's he hiding? I can't see what's so bad about his life here that he has to go around drinking, smoking, and screwing everything with a pulse. Sure, you can argue that the last one's for fun, even though it smacks of sex addiction. And you can argue that he's addicted to the cigarettes. But the liquor? That's not just situational. And what happens if he turns to harder stuff? It's bound to happen eventually. I'll walk in, and he'll be completely baked. Or he'll be so high he does something stupid... Or he'll O.D. But Emily doesn't see that side of Derek. Even I don't see that side of him.

Emily surprised me by slamming down the phone and hanging up on me. I tried to tell her, I really did, but she just didn't want to listen to what I had to say. A raw anger began to bubble up inside of me. How could Derek deliberately mislead Emily like that? How could he just lead her on and let her go on thinking that there was actually something between them? How could he give her false hope like that? He knows how she feels about him! It's like he's taking advantage of her feelings for him just to satisfy his stupid hormones!

I didn't even think Derek could stoop that low! I thought he had limits! You have to draw the line somewhere, and I thought it had been drawn firmly at Emily. I mean, it's Derek... I could understand if maybe there was a chance that he could actually like her. But there wasn't. And every brief relationship Derek has ends badly. Emily was our neighbor, and my best friend. We couldn't afford to have them hate us. And I didn't want to lose Emily because of something stupid Derek did to her.

What if he broke her heart? What then! I don't think Emily could take it. He was probably so drunk he doesn't even remember. I mean, kissing a girl, making out with a girl, even having sex with a girl... is absolutely nothing to him. He only cares about what feels good in the moment. He likes to be... satisfied.

Okay, that's it. There's no tomorrow. I'm telling George about Derek's extracurricular activities _right_ now. I tried to help him. I tried to warn him, I really did. I set my phone down and marched down the stairs. I don't care if he's got a hot date or not. I just charged down the stairs, overcome with rage. I spotted George in the kitchen and approached him quickly.

"Hey, George? Just thought you might like to know that your son's been coming home drunk every night. And he's had so many girls over here lately that our house has practically become a brothel. He sneaks in with them after curfew, completely wasted. And then he proceeds to have loud, passionate sex with them in the room next to mine. He smokes a pack a day and goes clubbing every night. Sometimes he comes back so stone drunk that he can't even stand up straight. He's been getting in fights lately too... Sam told me that the hockey coach even complained about his aggressiveness. He dislocated a guy's shoulder at practice on Monday and nearly killed Sam. It seems like he's always in a bad mood. Oh, and he's flunking three classes. But he's being safe. He uses condoms. Isn't that great to hear? Doesn't that make you proud, eh, George? I just thought you might want to know," I snapped sarcastically, faking a saccharine-sweet smile.

George's eyes bugged out at me. At first he looked at me, simply disbelieving. He didn't believe I was right. Well, that's just too damn bad because I was. All of that was one hundred percent true. Eventually this must've also occurred to George too. I guess each and every little fact sunk in slowly.

I suppose it's all one big blow. You think you've got it all together one minute, and then it turns out that you really don't. Yeah. Drinking. BAM! Promiscuity. BAM! Breaking Curfew. BAM! Smoking. BAM! Dirty Dancing. BAM! Aggressiveness. BAM! Disrespect. BAM! Violence. BAM! Bad Temper. BAM! Failing School. BAM! Condoms. BAM! BAM! BAM! It was like a double whammy... one hit right after the other. And they kept coming!

George's jaw dropped, and he abruptly stood up from the table. "DEREK!" He shouted at the top of his longs. Like the dog he was, Derek came when he was called. I smirked to myself. It looks like he's about to be taught a well-deserved lesson in responsibility. George grabbed Derek by the shoulder and began yelling at him.

Derek knew who had told George. As George dragged him upstairs, Derek's eyes sought out mine, narrowing upon contact. He struggled a little with his father. Derek was never the type to go out quietly. That intensely rabid look in his eyes would haunt me in my dreams forever. "Two can play at this game," He mouthed over George's shoulder.

I had no doubt that Derek meant it. The challenging, indomitable look in his eyes only made me more certain. He wasn't going to let me off the hook for this one, that was for sure. This time, well... It was really on now. That look wasn't just any look. It was a Declaration of War, and I'd accepted it, knowing the consequences.

The only question that remains is who will be the victor... and who will be the loser?

Loren ;

Hope that was worth the wait. Probably not, but still... WE HAVE OUR OWN CATEGORY! Lol, sorry. It's the first time I've ever posted since we've had a category. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Review please... It really means a lot.


	13. Turning Colours into Greys

Okay, first of all, I would like to say that I'm sorry about how long it took for me to update. Really, I am. My other story is sort of monopolizing and attractive. ;) I suck at writing two stories at the same time. I miss the days when I could write both of them simultaneously and have one updated and then update the other one the next day.

At first, this chapter was just so hard to write, but then it got easier and easier... After I finished the update for my other fic. I think it's because I haven't seen a new episode of LWD in ages, so it's hard to get inspired. Weirdly enough, there's actually a lot of stuff about why Derek's character in this chapter. A sort of view into his slightly tormented psyche, if you will... Especially his relationship with his father. Not to take away from the action. It's a pretty emotional chapter for Derek, kind of like Temporary Insanity was for Casey. And, since it's a lot like Temporary Insanity in some ways, I honestly think you'll find it worth the wait. And I do mean that. You'll see why...

I started out hating this chapter, but you know, now I really like it. Originally, I had planned for this chapter to come much later on, or at least a little, but I decided I'd speed up the storyline a bit. Not that that means that the story will skip whole months or anything. On a side note, this chapter is set a bit after the last chapter, but not long after... Probably a little around a week. So it's still in the month of November, around the 20s. Anyways, I don't own Life With Derek.

It's funny, at first I agonized over what to name this chapter. But then I listened to this beautiful song, and, well, you have the chapter title. So spoilers to anyone who names the band who sings the song. Bonus points if you can get the lyrics and why I spelled it "Greys". Also bonus spoiler points to anyone who guessed who sang the song for last chapter. ;) And "Falling". And any other chapter, unless I've already stated who sings it, which I have for most. Yep, that rules out "Temporary Insanity", "Bring It On", "Into the Morning" I think, "Lethal Lipgloss" I think, and the first three. See, this way you get to make a soundtrack! Yay! Random fact: As of this chapter, it's 45.2 minutes long according to iTunes. ;)

Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter...

* * *

"I either have or I don't have... But usually I have."

* * *

I know what you're thinking. You think that I'm actually mad at Casey for what she did. I guess I was at first. But I get why she did it. Or maybe I don't... I just... I don't really get why she _cares_. Especially after what she said to me. I'm pretty confused about the whole ordeal. But one has to pretend, you know?

So I act like I'm mad at her. I've been playing pranks on her all week. And I bring a girl in my room twice as much now. I mean, I figure the getting-drunk just makes me look stupid. Smoking, well, I'm trying to cut back, really. I wasn't really doing all of that to get her attention. I know that's what she probably thinks. That's what Dad thinks anyways. He thinks it was a cry for help.

It wasn't, though. I guess a little of it was to make Casey aware that I'm human too... But, and I don't like to admit this... Casey yelling at me really did a number on me. I was hurt. Ugh, I hate to say that. It makes me sound like a pansy. And I'd rather shoot myself than become Sam. So I started drinking, which helped numb the pain, I guess. That makes me sound like an alcoholic, doesn't it? I guess it helps you to forget when everything's all hazy.

The cigarettes are really more of a way of releasing the stress. I get the point now. I'm not going to go out and get wasted every night. I'm just going to sleep with as many girls as possible. Casey'll never be able to study or sleep. I'll make sure to bang them against the wall. Hard against the wall. After all, she can most definitely hear things. And, trust me, it's fun. I know you're really sort of wondering why my dad's putting up with all of this.

He was enforcing rules. That lasted um, up through Friday morning. He got this huge case from work, so he's sort of swamped. Which means that he can easily ignore me... just the way I like it. Even better, he didn't tell Nora about the whole thing. Which means I have pretty much free reign, since I bribe Edwin into getting everyone out of the house or situating themselves in places so Casey can't study. Ooh, I made him lock Casey in her room once. Then I gave him money to take Lizzie out for ice cream. I have to say it, the kid really likes her. I wonder if she's noticed yet. Then again, if she's anything like her sister, Ed will be waiting for a very long time.

So it's pretty much down to the nitty gritty. Casey and I left to our own devices. God, our parents are idiots. I mean, come on, how much of a tool is my dad? What kind of father lets his teenage son drink, smoke, and sleep around like I do? Then again, they did get a 6 on that test. Or was it a two? It was dangerously low, though.

Speaking of which, my dad and I have to have a little talk. You see, after some reflection, I'm not quite so sure I'm in love with Casey. Then again, that probably has to do more with the fact that she hates me than anything else. After all, it is a hell of a lot easier to be in denial than love. Especially when Casey is concerned. She's just... difficult. Yeah, I know. That's like the pot calling the kettle black, but... She's about as equally uncompromising as me. Always by the books, that one. I'm going to have to fix that.

I mean, she still thinks me kissing her... and touching her... and wanting her is wrong. And if we're ever going to hook up, well, I just can't have that. Hey, I told you I was uncompromising. I've never been in love before. Hell, I grew up with Dad, a stream of bitchy women after My Dad the Lawyer, a baby, and a little brother to scare. Not exactly the stablest home, or for the matter, the most nuturing. There's not so much love going on here, you know? I mean, there were those bimbos Dad dated, but they just taught me about... Not love. Yeah, let's put it that way. Thinking of my dad with women just makes me sick.

Which is why I have to ask him. I don't want to, but I think there's a chance that I can still be saved from this... unhealthy, inconvenient, annoying infatuation I have with Casey. Okay, so I get verbose when I'm upset. I only pretend to be stupid half of the time. I mean, hey, if the teachers let me slide, then why actually do the work? I'm lazy by nature, and I'd rather be partying than doing math homework. Or hooking up with a girl or a few, which is what I've slated for tonight. Mm, delicious. I love my After School Specials.

Okay, here goes nothing. Hmm, but how exactly do I phrase this? Oh, Dad, yeah... I think I'm in love with Casey. Yeah. I can just picture him hitting the roof from here. Okay, try again. Dad, what would you say if I told you that I was in love? Yeah, hysterical laughter is not the way to go. Maybe an analogy? Er... Okay, Dad, this is it... Casey and I sorta have this Romeo/Juliet thing going down. Only I think she's about the densest person on the planet, so she doesn't know yet. So should I marry her or what? Whoa. I have got to stop reading Shakespeare. It makes me think about stupid things like matrimony!

I can do this. Just take a deep breath, Derek. Or twenty. Why am I being nervous? God, it's just my dad! Who I've only lived with since birth. Get a grip, Derek. You're acting like a girl. You're acting like... Sam. Why does the Sam one scare me more? Okay, as twisted as that is... Dude, the guy (if you can even call him that) is dating the chick of my dreams. Of course I want to be him. No, I don't. Then I'd be some candy-ass pansy like Sam. Who cries. A lot. I remember that we went on a double date once. Not with each other, stupid. Though I'm honestly not sure that Sam doesn't swing that way. I mean, seriously, the way he looks at me when we're in the shower at Hockey? Totally not right. Mega creepy. It really makes you think, you know?

Anyways, back to the Double Date from Hell. Well, it wasn't that bad. Wait, yes it was. I didn't get lucky that night. We had to go watch A Walk to Remember. Ugh. Hideous movie. Worst movie ever. On the face of the planet. And Sam sees it and cries like a girl at the end. Baby. I was like, so what? I mean, come on, it's just a damn movie. Then both of the stupid girls started crying and fawning over him, and I really just wanted to smack all three of them. But I don't hit girls. Sam kept crying. I swear that he was still crying when I threw him on his front porch. Wuss.

Okay, right. Daaad. Focus on that. On what, his rockin' comb over? Well, he doesn't have one yet, but I've seen that receding hairline, and trust me, he will... Good thing male pattern baldness is inherited from the mother's side. And I happen to know that my grandfather's a hippie complete with the long hair and slight odor of weed. Hey, I'm a popular kid... You think I don't know what grass smells like? I'm not naïve like Sammy and Casey. On girls that sort of thing is cute. Totally not true of guys. We have to be experienced. Unless you suck in the sack. Then just say you're a virgin. The girls will think it's sweet that you waited for the right person. And then they'll be flattered in thinking that person was them.

I was going to talk to Dad. I'd even opened my mouth and everything. Only Lizzie walked in the room. She tugged on my sleeve. At first I just ignored her, but then she channelled her sister and yanked me out of the room before I could say a word. Gee, thanks. I peered in the mirror, fretting over my jacket. I hope Lizzie didn't do anything to it. I love this jacket. I smoothed down my jacket somewhat nervously. Oh, good, it's fine! I love my jacket. Did I mention that already?

I stopped when I noticed that Lizzie stood behind me, glaring. What does she want now? I sighed annoyedly and turned around to face Lizzie. Lizzie and I have this sort of unspoken agreement... If she stays out of my way, I'll stay out of hers. Unfortunately, sometimes her sister rubs off on her, so she nags me. That girl can really piss me off when she gets all sanctimonious. Oh, and she's taken up the annoying habit of intervening in Edwin's life, which is mega irritating when I'm trying to torment him. Oh, another part to the agreement... Lizzie isn't allowed to cook. She must be the worst cook alive, seriously.

Lizzie continued to glare at me. Okay, out with it, Liz. I don't have time for this. I have to talk to Dad about this whole maybe being-in-love-thing. And then I have a few girls to ba... I mean see. And that means I have to find and bribe Edwin to get the kids out of the house. And I have to do... something about Dad. Not to mention order dinner. Then again, if I order dinner, the girl will probably assume that it's a date, and I really have no intentions of getting that serious with her.

Oh, damn. Lizzie's still here, isn't she? I returned Lizzie's stare, scowling. Okay. I'm counting to three, and if you don't say anything, I'm getting the hell out of here. Some of us have things to do. One, two, thr... "What did you do to Edwin?" Lizzie growled accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest. I have to give it to Casey. She really has Lizzie brainwashed. The girl must think I'm the Antichrist or something. No, wait, Casey thinks I'm Lucifer. Not that there's much of a difference. Anyways, I resent that. I'm not that evil.

Now, see, that pisses me off. That Lizzie thinks I've done something automatically. Especially since this time... I haven't actually done anything. Actually, I've been rather nice to Edwin lately. I give him money to go to the movies, for ice cream... I don't think he realizes that I'm not made of it. Oh well... I can afford it. My business ventures are doing incredibly well lately. Ooh, that girl band is phenomenal. My dTunes CDs are selling like you wouldn't believe. Great record sales. They also do a mean Skid Row cover. I've never before met a girl who can sing heavy metal, but they blew me away. Their lead singer can sing anything. She's hot too. I'd go out with her, only I'd ruin it, and then I'd have to find another band.

"Huh?" I muttered intelligently. "I didn't do anything," I protested angrily. Naturally, Lizzie didn't believe me. And why would she, with a sister like hers? Why does she even think I've done anything? I mean, let's see... Edwin doesn't have any unaccounted-for bruises that I can think of. Hmm, I don't think he's been acting strangely. That's relative, I suppose... Edwin's not the most normal person to begin with. He and Lizzie are tight, though, so I guess if anyone would notice... It would be her. You can say a lot of things about Lizzie... But you can't say that Lizzie isn't observant, unlike Casey. I swear, I could write a message in the sky, and she still wouldn't get it!

Lizzie gave me a look. Okay, Liz, explain away. What have I done this time? I hate that. Everyone thinks I'm a screw-up. They just expect it. They don't even ask anymore... They just assume. And it's not like anyone ever tries to help me, either. I mean, if Dad was a good father, he would've done anything possible to prevent me from failing English. He's supposed to love me, right, and want what's best for me? Guess who winds up helping me instead... Casey, my stepsister, who absolutely loathes me. Casey helped me over my own father. You know, I don't think I've quite properly thanked her for that, by the way... Maybe I ought to surprise her sometime... in the middle of the night.

I could just sneak in her room and, yeah... Oh, the possibilities!

But Lizzie's talking. Yeah... Right. "Edwin's been acting weird for a few weeks. You've been acting weird. I'm not stupid, Derek. So tell me, what did you do?" Lizzie interjected with a frown. Hey, his weirdness and my weirdness are totally unrelated. I'm weird because Casey told me to drop dead, pretty much. And Edwin's acting weird because he likes you, Lizzie. I guess she can't really see that though. On second thought, maybe she's a lot more like her sister than my previous estimate.

I rolled my eyes at Lizzie, feeling my irritation increase by the moment. "You know, Lizzie, as hard as it is to believe... Not everything that goes wrong in this house is my fault," I retorted sharply. I swear, it's like Casey thinks I'm responsible for everything bad in the world... from Hurricane Katrina to Glitter. I'm not some kind of criminal mastermind. I frowned, fixing Lizzie with a look. "Trust me, other things are making Edwin weird," I muttered, hoping she'd get the hint. I mean, really, it's so depressing seeing Edwin mope around these days.

He wants Lizzie bad. No, not like that. He's too young to be lusting after her. It's just... He's practically screaming: "Love me! Want me!" And she doesn't notice. So I say what the hell, you know? I mean, I'm sure I'm probably thinking the same thing about Casey, but at least I go after it. You can say many things about me, but you can't say that I don't go after it... to Casey's great displeasure. For now, anyways. I'll change that. I swear it.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, clearly disbelieving. Well, fine, don't believe me! "Okay, then," Lizzie snapped. Excuse me, what? Did she actually... agree with me? Uh oh. She's talking again. "Then what is wrong with Edwin, Derek?" Oh, crap. She just had to ask that question. I hate her. She knew I couldn't answer, the bitch.

Just what, exactly, am I supposed to say? I can't tell her Edwin's in love with her. That would piss Ed off. But I can't tell her anything, because that would piss her off... and prove her point. I would do the first one, really, but there are some things you don't meddle in, you know? I rolled my eyes at her, putting my hands on my hips. Hey, wait, no... I can't do that! It makes me feel gay... Ick. Okay, hands crossed over my chest. That's good. "Hey, Liz, here's a tip... How 'bout you actually **ask** Edwin instead of bluntly accusing me of a crime I didn't even commit! Hell, I don't even know what you _think_ I did!" I retorted sarcastically, fixing Lizzie with a stern, enraged look. Yeah, so maybe I sort of yelled at her.

Oh, don't you give me that disparaging look! I don't care that she's a little girl... You know, she's not that little! Yeah... They teach Sex-Ed in her grade, uh huh. I should know. I know just about everything about Sex-Ed... and Anatomy. Not the point, though. It wasn't even that bad of a blow-out on my scale. I mean, it was only half of my explosion at Casey on Fiona's Wedding Day. I'm not going to call her my aunt because A. we're only related through marriage... B. I made out with her daughter... and C. She's a friggin' nutcase, okay? I honestly don't get how Nora put up with that lunatic. Wow, I actually feel bad for her, Nora, that is. Weeeird. But, yeesh, if I had to grow up with some overgrown ungrateful, whiny, bitchy crybaby... Oh, wait. I think I do. And her name is Casey.

No, that's not true. Casey's just a Drama Queen. I think I've only made her cry... once. Or something. No, no... Twice. Maybe. I think. I don't know. Three times? Oh, I can't keep track of how many times the girl cries! I can keep track of how many times she tries to strangle me, though. She was pretty upset then. Eh, oh well, I wasn't. I was pretty damn happy. I mean, I got to make out with Casey. Aside from watching her hang all over Sammy-poo for hours... That was a pretty good night for me. You know, minus the strangling.

That I could've done without. Lizzie pursed her lips, frowning at me. "Don't curse, Derek," She muttered sanctimoniously. Prim and proper. I rolled my eyes like her. God, so much like her sister. Except Casey has much more personality. Mm, Casey. Right. I shot Lizzie a glare as I walked away, mentally cursing enough to make up for a thousand swears. I smirked, walking back into the kitchen. After all, I still had to talk to Dad.

About Casey and love and...

Except not Casey. I can't tell him it's Casey. She's just... a girl. Then again...

Oh, come on, Derek! When has Casey ever been "just a girl" to you? If she was "just a girl", you wouldn't be having this problem. She'd be all over you. And you wouldn't even be contemplating love.

You know what? Maybe that's it... Maybe I just _think_ I'm in love with Casey. Yeah, yeah, yeah! That sounds reasonable. Like... Maybe I just think I love her because I can't have her. After all, that is a relatively new feeling for me. Case wants nothing to do with me. So of course I'm attracted to that! It's the unknown, you know? And everyone's attracted to the unknown...

No, Derek, no one's attracted to the unknown, you idiot. People _fear_ the unknown. Because it's unknown. And, to you, love is, well, pretty much unknown. So maybe you're just afraid of being in love... being vulnerable like that.

Oh, god. I sound like Oprah. Kill me now. Please. I don't wanna be a chick. If I did, I'd have a sex change. And I would be hot. So hot. I'd be smokin'. And probably a really easy slut. Not the point, though. Off the subject of love, please. Something nice and safe.

Like my "newfound" rivalry with Casey. Puh-lease. It's a wussy competition. I'm just faking it. I know that I deserved what she did to me. I'm probably even a little better off for it. My liver thanks Casey. And, yeah, it's not like my dad's done anything about it... so nothing's really changed. Yeah, so I don't go after guys as aggressively in hockey (boy, does that sound wrong!). Except Sam. I find it hard to control that overwhelming urge I have to punch him in the face. So maybe I slam him against the wall a little. Okay, so I do that a lot. And, yeah, so maybe he lost a tooth last time.

But that sort of thing is common among hockey players. In fact, that's how I lost my first tooth. And it was a baby tooth anyways. His last one. Had to come out sometime. And better that way than me punching him straight in the kisser... That would just be plain suspicious, and I can't let anyone know what I'm up to. I mean, how would it look with me going after my best friend's girl? Okay, so maybe I've done that before.

This time's different, though. She's my stepsister, after all... my majorly uncool stepsister. And, while I may not give a damn, other people will. But I am Derek Venturi, and I will change their minds. Because I am stubborn. And I get what I want... and I want Casey. So I'm going to get her. And no one is going to stop me. Not Sam, not Emily, not our family, not my friends, and, most certainly... Not Casey. After all, I always get what I want. Always.

I'm man enough to admit that I had it coming. Plus, hey, she said she cares. And, that, my friend, is progress. You know, since she hated me and all... I need all the progress I can get.

Just like I need to talk to Dad about this whole love debaucle. I sighed, forcing myself to go back into the kitchen. Well, here goes nothing. And I do mean that literally. I have no idea what to say. Well, I'm Derek Venturi. I'll figure out something. I always do, don't I? And it's always perfect. 'Cause that's what I am.

Perfect.

Not that I'm conceited or anything. Casey hates that in a guy. I oughtta know, right? But what I lack in modesty and humility, I make up for in experience and make-outability. I don't care if that's not a word. It should be. It's a great quality to have. Sam, for instance, humble as he may be, sucks at making out. I know because every girlfriend he has that I've ever wanted I've gotten. Because he sucks at making out. I know. They told me. What, did you think I know from experience? Ugh. Please! If I were gay, I could do so, so, so much better than Sam.

Besides, I'm his best friend. And I know that he only wears that hat all the time to make up for the fact that he like, never washes his hair. It's completely sickening. I honestly don't get what Casey sees in him. I, for instance, shower every day. Twice a day when I play hockey. And I don't hide behind some ugly-ass hat like my so-called best friend. I happen to have nice hair. And so I don't have the blue eyes. Big deal. I can express more in a look than Sam can with his whole body. Plus I can benchpress more, and my muscles are ten times better than Sammy's. Make that twenty.

And yet, Sam has Casey.

Well, there are ways to fix that. And I will fix that... fast.

I took another deep breath and slowly approached Dad, who was looking at me with trepidation. This is just Dad. And I'm going to be talking to him about Casey. More specifically: How I feel towards Casey. That's like poking a bear. I just... I have this feeling that somehow this whole thing is going to majorly backfire on me. Well, that look he's giving me really isn't reassuring. I'd better say something before he jumps to conclusions.

Oops. Too late. "What is it **now**, Derek? Come to tell me you're flunking out of school? Did the test results come back positive?" Dad sniped bitterly, fixing me with a glare. Dad was usually really laidback. I guess this case must be getting to him. Still, it hurt a little that he automatically thought the worst of me. I wasn't kidding when I told Casey that I act out because it's what people expect... Not just everybody in the family, either. All my friends... Everyone at school, even the teachers. That and the fact that nobody really stops me, except Casey, that is. She's the only one who's even really tried.

I gulped. I have to do this. It will be fine. Nothing is going to happen. And Casey won't find out about this little conversation. I shook my head, trying to think of what to say. I'm not too good with words. Sure, I could charm a girl to the moon... but that's when I'm in my element. Same with arguing. But it's in awkward situations like these that I falter. I'm not used to having heart-to-heart type conversations with my horribly out-of-touch father. And, see, if I just say what's on my mind (which is pretty much what I usually do), then I'm bound to say something stupid, like, for instance: I'm in love with Casey! Which is still... Maybe, hopefully, please, I'm-begging-you-God, not entirely certain or true... yet. I think.

"Dad," I began slowly. Dad gave me a curious look. Derek, you have to do this. No wussing out. I mean, do you really want to become Sam?

HELL NO! Isn't that obvious? Okay. So I'm doing this. Well, here goes nothing.

I smiled weakly. I don't think Dad noticed that I was faking it. "How do you know if you're in love?" I asked, finally laying it out on the table. I felt somewhat relieved that I'd been able to get it out. I might be the master of secrets, but keeping all of it to myself was just killing me. Besides, Dad was probably too _clueless_ (HA!) to put the pieces together. I should say that Dad was drinking tea when I said this. Man, the look he gave me was absolutely priceless. His wide-open eyes looked like golf balls. His eyebrows were actually so raised that they were obscured by his hair. Not to mention that his mouth was gaping open like that kid's from Home Alone. All of the tea he had been drinking was now, welll, everwhere. It was pretty disgusting. Luckily, me and my jacket remained unscathed.

I shot Dad a mildly disgusted look, brushing myself off in case any particles of his spit had landed on me. He was still looking at me, slightly horrorstruck. Oh, come on, it can't be that shocking! Get over it, old man! Eventually, Dad got over himself and primly closed his mouth. He spoke again, clutching his chest, "I am too young to be having a myocardial infarction, Derek." He looked somewhat mad.

Well, that's what I get for breaking the Guy Code and talking about my feelings. Damn, now I feel like Sam. I must fix this. I sent Dad the look I send people who give me questioning glances, y'know, the one that said "Don't mess with me, fool." complete with the ghetto accent. Not that there really are ghettos here in the Great White North- at least where we live anyways. "I'm serious, Dad," I muttered icily, looking down. I just want an answer to my frickin' question. How damn hard is that, huh?

Dad gave me a blank stare, clearly still doubting me. I continued to look at him until he responded, which was soon, given the force of my deathglare. It's really benefitted from the practice with Casey. Dad sighed, motioning for me to sit down. I didn't oblige him. I didn't want a big fancy conversation. Just an answer to a very important question that happened to be slowly driving me mad... madder, I guess. Dad shrugged, and I had a feeling he was going to go all lawyer on me and give me one of those crap convoluted answers. I have no patience for that crap. I trusted Dad with this. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. I bet I can look it up on the internet...

I was contemplating just walking off when Dad opened his mouth. "Derek," He replied quietly, staring pensively into space. "Love is a very complex emotion. There are many forms of love, not all them romantic. Some love is not even love at all. Do you get what I mean, Derek?" Dad said cautiously, fixing me with a suggestive look. Well, gee, Dad, you're not trying to hint at anything. Yeesh. I just want to know an answer, dumbass! How hard is that! You graduated from the best law school in Canada! How hard can it be?

Yeah, I've been a bit on edge lately. I don't deal with confusion well. "For the love of **God**, Dad, stop quoting Alexz Johnson songs and give me a _straight_ answer! I want to know **if** I'm in love! It's not exactly a difficult question!" I growled, getting up in my dad's face. Ooh, I wanted to punch him. Dad appeared somewhat taken aback by the outburst. Well, bucko, get used to it! If I'm actually in love with Casey, he'll have bigger problems on his hands than that!

Luckily for Dad, he decided to answer. "Love is different for different people," Dad replied calmly. I rolled my eyes, so Dad really got the show on the road. "I don't know... Do you feel butterflies when you see her?" That would be a negatory. How unmanly would that be? "Are you even attracted to her?" I nodded vigorously. A little too much, I think. That was a numb question. Jeez. "Do you feel fireworks when you kiss her? Sparks when you touch her?" Yes, but Dad's really creeping me out here! Maybe I shouldn't have asked him for help after all. I mean, what does Dad really know about girls that I don't? Outside of sex, probably a lot more than you do because he's been married three times. Okay, fine, whatever! I'm not going to get married to Casey though! Especially since I don't even know if I... Oh, I can't even say it. Ugh.

Dad pursed his lips and continued, "Does she make you feel differently around her? Is it hard to get the right words out? Do you come on too strong?" That would be a yes on all three counts. In fact, I usually make a total ass of myself around her on a daily basis. I sighed. Okay, yeah, so what. None of that means I'm in love with her.

Dad smirked a little. Now is not the time to have a sense of humor, man! "Do you slip and lose control, act out of character... around her?" Dad asked, a sickening smile on his face. Yes, you idiot, yes! Get to the point already! Dad paused; I think to deliberately piss me off. "Okay. Do you think about her all the time... every second of every day? Do even the littlest things remind you of her? Would you go to any lengths to make her happy? Do you feel guilty when you do something you know she would disprove of? Does she make you want to change?" Dad questioned seriously, staring straight into my eyes.

I had no answer, but Dad asked one more question. "Can you picture your life without her?" And you wanna know the sad thing?

I can't. I really _can't_ picture my life without Casey. And that... That absolutely **terrifies** me.

I must've turned white or something because Dad gave me this real concerned look. Ha, like he's ever cared before! Dad was suddenly looking at me in a whole new way... with what looked like admiration. Okay, great, so I'm actually in love with Casey, who hates me, yet still cares about me... How friggin' polarizing is that? Is that even possible? And Dad, Dad's giving me that weird droopy look, like he's actually proud of me... Proud of me for what, being in love with some chick? I don't think he'd be so damn happy if he knew that it was Casey. I think I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown here. Maybe... Maybe I just need to sit down.

Dad was suddenly looking at me with interest. Great, just great. Now he wants to know who the girl of my dreams is. Just peachy. Eh, well, he's no detective. He probably won't figure it out anyways. "I'm not telling you who it is," I muttered moodily, interrupting him before he even spoke. I sighed, feeling suddenly melancholic, and sat down at the table. Dad was trying to give me a puppy-dog look. Only I invented that and he's my dad, not... Casey... or anything. So it, of course, won't work on me.

Dad rolled his eyes at me. I was burying my head in my hands, so I couldn't see him... But I knew he was doing it. Fathers are so predictable. "Come on, Derek. So you're in love with a girl. What's the big deal?" Dad whined, somewhat badgering me. You know, I was beginning to wonder the same thing myself. "Why won't you tell me who it is?" He insisted, trying to sound hurt. Well, it wasn't working on me. Besides, he'd flip if I told him. So I won't. It's my business, after all, not his.

I mean, he's my dad. Not Casey's. And I can lie to my father all I want. "Dad, **don't**, okay?" I snapped irritably. Fine, he wants truth, he's going to get some! I brought my head up, shooting him an immediately venemous glare. Yeah, eat that! I was pissed off, what can I say? Well, what do you know? He looks slightly frightened. How terrible. "She fu-" I stopped at Dad's look. Fine, fine, okay, you got it, Big Guy. No swearing will come from my lips. I'll just keep it on the inside, even though it's horribly unhealthy to bottle things up. Oh well. I'll let him pay my shrink. It's his fault I have these psychological issues, after all...

"She effing hates me, Dad. That's it. That's why I can't tell you. She doesn't love me back. And, you know what, why should she? It's not like I've given her a reason. No wonder she hates me. Oh, and she has a boyfriend. So why don't you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do about that, eh, Dad?" I snarled bitterly, feeling the scowl form on my face. Love sucks. Life was so much easier before Casey...

I buried my head in my hands again. Well, I'm not going to kill myself or anything. The world won't end because Casey doesn't love me. She cares. At least. I'll make sure she comes around... Hopefully. Dad just gave me a blank look, again surprised at the outburst. I was surprised when he stood up and leaned out of the door. "CASEY! Come here, I need you for a minute!" Dad called up the stairs.

My eyes widened immeasureably. Oh crap. This is just craptastic. I have got to stop that man from informing Casey of my... feelings. She doesn't need to know. She doesn't want to know. So why is he... I jumped up from the table, ripping Dad away from the door violently. Wow. I can beat my dad up... Wow. Okay, enough marveling over that. I have to make him stop before Casey comes down here.

"What the **hell** do you think _you're_ doing!" I shouted, grabbing him by the collar. Dad squirmed, looking afraid. So even Dad's afraid of me... Unconditional love, my ass. I am so falling off the wagon tonight. Something tells me that I am going to get absolutely positively stinking drunk off my ass. And I don't know why. My gut instinct is just warning my liver to get ready to start pumping its little heart out... Wait, it doesn't have a heart! Oh, who gives a friggin' damn? I was headed for alcohol poisoning anyways.

Casey walked in just then, as I had my father pinned up against the wall. If we'd been there any longer, I probably would've hit him. Not that that's saying much. I've been hitting everyone lately. Only guys, though. My mom did teach me some manners, thank you very much. You know, I just HATE living here sometimes. I want to just rip my hair out. No one thinks anything good about me, you know? It's such a negative environment to grow up in. Plus I wanna bang the girl in the room next door. How's that for screwed up family dynamics? Although this is a mixed family, so we're screwed up already.

Why'd she have to be my stepsister? I bet I wouldn't be in love with her if she wasn't. Oy. Speaking of Casey, she shot me a rather frosty glare. Okay, I get the message. Your mom needs her husband in one piece. D'accord. I got it. I reluctantly let my father go with a bit of a jerk, forcing myself to back away before I did something crazy like attempt to strangle him. Ooh, but I'm tempted. So tempted.

Casey smiled politely- but only politely. Can't have me getting the wrong message and actually thinking I have a chance... now can we, Case? I hate her sometimes. Is that twisted? To hate someone you love more than anything you've ever known? I think it is... Maybe I wouldn't be having this problem if she wasn't dating Sam. Or if she wasn't, for all intents and purposes, my sister. You never want what you can get. Hence the bizarre, unshakeable attraction. "What do you want, George?" Casey asked somewhat wearily.

What does she have to be tired about? Casey must've felt my stare because she crossed her arms over her chest, fidgeting uncomfortably. Dad cleared his throat, and I felt my blood run cold. Dad better not open his mouth. If he does, trust me, he'll regret it. I'm already getting ideas. I can frame him. He ought to know that. Just like that, I can make it so Nora's pissed at him. I'm not sure just yet what I'll do, but, trust me, it'll be good. I gave Dad a look, but he just ignored it. What a pity. I guess I'll have to destroy him, family or not. "Well, Derek likes a girl. And I was wondering if you could..." Dad trailed off, obviously knowing Casey would pick out the hint.

Casey looked a little surprised, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at that. She raised an eyebrow and actually looked at me. I felt a little bit better at that and smirked at her widely. It was a false show of confidence. I was really sweating it out pretty badly. But you can't ever show your fear. Casey smiled at me coldly, shooting me an icy glare. She then turned to my Dad, smiling thinly and nodding. She was going to help him. I felt sick to my stomach, and that's not a feeling I'm exactly used to. Casey pretended to think before both her and Dad turned around to question me. "Mary?"

I frowned. Mary? Who's that? You know, there are quite a few Marys that go to our school. Let's see... There's Marianne, Mary-Jane, Maria, Mary-Lou, Mary-Catherine... Hm. How many is that? Casey rolled her eyes at my obviously blank look. "You know, from our English class?" Um, I don't remember her. Is that bad? Wait, was she the one who...? Nah, that wasn't her. Okay then.

Casey sighed frustratedly, shaking her head at my behavior. I could've sworn I heard her call me a whore. "Sandra?" I shook my head no. Definitely no. Let me tell you, I've seen the Nazi side of feminism, and it's not pretty. Though according to Sandra, that's unfair and very misogynistic of me. Eh, screw her. I didn't, by the way. Said it'd violate some of her values... Whatever. But true to her nature, Casey persisted. "Laurie?" No, not Laurie. Though there are a bunch of them too... Lori, Laura, Lauren A, Lauren D, Lauren B, Lauren M, Lauren S, the other Lauren S, the other Lauren M, Lora, Lauryn, Lauree... But not Laurie, not for a while. "Lynn?" She asked hesitantly. I just shrugged. I can't believe she remembers them. "Susanne?" Dude, she just buys me lunch sometimes. Well, and I've made out with her a bit... How does Casey know about that?

Oh, right. 'Cause I might've mentioned it when I crashed Sam first asking Case out. Righto. "Amy?" Oh, please. Amy is my designated driver. She thinks alcohol is poison. She dumped me when she found out that I drank like a fish. She said she "didn't like who you are when you're drunk". It's not like I'm that different when I'm drunk. She should know. She first had sex with me when I was drunk. And then she had sex with me when I was sober. I blew her mind both times. Hey, I'm not lying. She complimented me on it...

Not the point though. Guess that just proves that Casey's right about me. Oh well. No one expects much from me anyways. Casey's eyes narrowed irritably, and a cruel gleam flashed in her eyes. "Emily?" She snarled. No way! I shook my head no vehemently. If it was possible, Casey's glare intensified. Geez, what did I do to... Oh, wait, I did the molasses one today, didn't I? Hm. Yeah. She'll be sticky for days. However, it was quite amusing seeing her covered in molasses... Made me just want to lick it all off. Mm, molasses.

I groaned at the thought. Casey must've thought I was thinking about Emily because she just sent me a dark glare. "Oh, really, Derek? Because she told me that you made out with her at Chrissy's party! Want to _explain_ that, Derek?" Casey snapped suddenly, without warning. Whoa, I did _what_? I would never make out with Emily. She's off limits. Plus, hello... She's Emily. Hey, wait... That's what this whole rivalry's about. You're telling me she narked on me because I made out with Emily. That's insane!

Or maybe I did. I got really trashed at Chrissy's party. I almost had to have my stomach pumped according to Amy. So I remember bits and pieces. Who knows? Maybe it's true... Dad was gaping at me, but I just shrugged and said nothing. That pissed Casey off... a lot. Surprisingly, Casey stalked towards me purposefully. Mm, she looks so hot. I just blinked at Casey, who was suddenly _all_ up in my face. She's wearing this real low-cut outfit. It reminds me of the shirt she wore when I had chicken pox and she accused me of dealing drugs. It was practically falling off of her. But that was before I liked her, the whole Poxfather business... I just thought it was the fever makin' me all hot and bothered. Well, it wasn't.

Unfortunately for me. I swear, life was so easy before Casey. "Who is she, Derek? Do I know her?" Casey growled venemously, practically spitting the words out. Ookay, so someone's irked. Honestly... it's like she actually cares or something. What was I supposed to say? I hate it when people put me on the spot like that.

I shrugged noncommittally. Had to act like I wasn't worried, you know? Oh, yeah, Case, you know her... "Better than you think," I muttered half under my breath. Casey shot me a suspicious look. God, I already told you it's not Emily! I don't need to tell you again, now do I? "It's not Emily," I said, interrupting her just before she was about to speak. Still suspicious and surprised, she closed her mouth. Wow. So that's how I finally get her to shut up. Good to know.

Casey gave me an appraising look, crossing her arms over her chest. "Who is it?" She continued sharply. Boy, is she persistent! But why does she even want to know? It's not like it's any of her business anyways. Well, it is. But she doesn't know that! I didn't answer. I was just so damn sick of getting the third degree. Did I question her about Sam? No. No, I did not. She could at least show me the same courtesy.

That's when I split, heading for my room. I have this nifty editing program on my computer, and I felt like making another movie or something. I don't know. Maybe I'll do Edwin a favor and insist that he and Lizzie star in my next production. I'm thinking of doing a love story. Okay, so maybe I get some extra credit for my English class if I film a version of this play we read in class. Or something. I don't know.

Here's the thing, though. Casey followed me. She actually followed me. I know... I was all what the hell too. In fact, I was just marching up the stairs when she grabbed my arm and jerked me around on my heels. I swear, I almost fell headfirst down the stairs. I glowered at her, violently pulling my arm free from her grasp. What is her problem? "What _is_ it, Casey?" I grunted tersely, staring her down.

Casey scowled at me, only repeating the same question once more. "Who is she, Derek? Who is this girl that's managed to satisfy you for more than two seconds? Because, whoever she is, she must really be something... You're _insatiable_," Casey drawled mockingly. Normally that'd probably be flattering to me or something, the insatiable comment. Not the way Casey meant it. I felt so insulted. If only she knew, eh?

I sighed heavily and just looked at her for a minute, wondering why I was really in love with her. Normally, I would've argued with her, but this time I didn't have the energy. Couldn't she see that I just wanted to be left alone? Can't I ruminate pathetically over unrequited love for five seconds? I mean, she moped around after Sam when any idiot with eyes could see that he was crazy over her. It was seriously painful. And I felt so guilty about keeping them apart too. It has nothing to do with Sam. Sam deserved it. If he was a real man, he wouldn't let me push him around.

It was just... Casey was so broken up about it, you know? She was crying. That was what did it for me. Sure, I might've given in when Sam and I talked, but that had nothing to do with him. I guess I sorta know how she felt then. Augh. I am really not the sort of guy who wallows in self-pity. I'm not used to this sort of thing. "Don't, Casey," I hissed, turning away from her and marching back up the stairs. I was heading down the hallway when I felt her presence behind me. I rolled my eyes, clenching my teeth. What part of "I don't want to speak to you" doesn't she understand? "Leave me alone, Case," I growled, not even bothering to turn around.

Does she have to rub it in like that? It's just making it worse. I couldn't see Casey, but I knew by the rustling of fabric that she was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. I knew she was going to say something, so I just headed towards my door. "You know, I never would've pegged _you_ for a coward. Besides, I'm going to find out anyways. You know just as well as I do how thin the walls in this house are," Casey murmured huskily, walking toward me. She was wearing these ridiculously tall high heels, and I could hear them click-click-clicking towards me. The sound drove me nuts.

That being said, she was looking hot tonight. She had a date with Sammy. I don't know. Maybe it was their anniversary or something. It was a big one, that's all I know. Six months, maybe? She was wearing this bright red dress that was sort of out of character for her. By that I mean that it was low cut... Not you know, exposing anything, but with a lot of cleavage. It wasn't really short. It was a little above her knees, I think. All I know is that it made her legs look fantastic. It was sort of vampy... The sleeves hung low on her shoulders. It always looked like one day they'd just slip right down and off. It really accentuated her chest. I think she was wearing a push-up bra... The dress was tight silk (at least at the top), with this filmy sorta see-through stuff on the skirt. I sound like a girl, but Casey was usually in layers, so this was all pretty new to me.

So I turned around. I was tired, yeah. And I was in love with her too. But I wasn't about to back down and let her call me a coward. Yeah, I did know how thin the walls were. Not that I've heard much from her side. I turned around really slowly before sending her a glare that could freeze ice. She stiffened a little, but other than that, there was really no change in her demeanor. Well, too bad. I'm going to break down her walls. I surprised her by meeting her halfway in the hallway, and all of the sudden, something occurred to me.

To tell you the truth, at first, I couldn't believe it. I thought maybe it was me temporarily losing my mind or something, but the more I thought about it... The more it made sense in my head. Why she was so... insistent... so furious. My eyes widened with realization. "You're jealous," I said, somewhat disbelieving. For once, I wasn't being cocky about it. I was just stating it.

Casey's eyes widened with shock. She couldn't believe I had even come to such a conclusion. Her jaw actually dropped, and she even shook her head so hard a lock of hair escaped from the sleek up-do. "Are you crazy!" Casey exclaimed in a gasp, like she couldn't bare to go louder. Not quite living up to her usual dramatic antics. I just looked at Casey, letting the smirk slide sinuously over my lips. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was right.

Hey, I'm cocky. It's what happens when you grow up like I do. You have to be one of those people who gets things done... Or they won't happen for you. You have to be your own support system because there's not going to be another person out there you can depend on. I mean, Dad's not exactly the most supportive guy there is. I mean, if you depend on him to support you, he'll let you fall and land flat on your ass. He gets distracted sometimes... To tell you the truth, it's a wonder he even met Nora at all. Dad was a huge workaholic before he met her. He always got wrapped up in his cases... "You know, I was counting on the thinness of the walls. Did you enjoy the performance?" I remarked sweetly, almost as if I was doing her a favor, beaming wildly.

Casey looked absolutely disgusted. Not that that surprised me. Wasn't she always disgusted with me? She made a face and then smirked herself. She'd obviously come up with a good insult. Well, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I say we hear it. "I wonder, Derek, just how many of those orgasms were faked?" Casey pondered, putting a finger to her lips. The smile dropped off of my face right after that. That was just hitting below the belt. Besides, what does innocent little Casey McDonald know about sex? She only knows what they taught her in school. Sure, she's hot, and she's pretty... but she's no sexpot.

I pursed my lips at first, feeling them turn white with frustration. I am getting way too worked up about this. So I relaxed a little and licked my lips instead, giving Casey the old once-over. "Wouldn't _you_ like to find out," I murmured suggestively, carefully measuring my words for emphasis. I smiled wryly and winked at her. I swear, she turned red in the face. She was so enraged. I'd forgotten just how fun it was to annoy Casey. And even the littlest things got to her.

I grinned and started to saunter back towards my room, supposedly home-free. I loved getting the last word. It was a prerequisite for all of my dealings with Casey. If possible, always get the last word. I thought I had. But once again, Casey's persistance amazed me. She was more than a match for me sometimes.

"I noticed that you didn't answer the question, though. You know, Derek, if you can't tell me... Could you even muster up the guts to tell her? Or are you just a complete chicken in matters of romance?" Casey pointed out, deliberately baiting me. Well, I'm not going to return the favor. I'm quickly tiring of this argument. For once, I'm going to be the bigger person. Wow. Weird. See the things Casey does to me? They're not all good, you know.

"You know that's not true," I growled through clenched teeth, standing still in the hall. I felt my muscles tense. I was referring obviously to my... conquests. She knew it was true better than anyone. I might want to say another thing right now. I hate people calling me a chicken. Now, I am well aware that I have a reputation. And it's mostly true, but a lot of it's an image. In other words, I'm a lot of things to a lot of people. But one of the things I am not is a coward. I have taken many steps in my life to prove that I am not a goddamn coward. I have done a lot of things, most of them stupid, just to prove those people wrong. That's part of how everyone said I was stupid. I don't much like that one either, for future reference.

But I can't stand being called a coward. So Casey saying that really pissed me off. If she was Sam, for instance, I probably would've started a fight to prove the contrary. But Casey was most definitely NOT Sam. And if she weren't so goddamn oblivious, then she would realize that she IS the freakin' girl. So it was a pretty big deal that I was (mostly) holding me back.

The thing that really got me riled up was the fact that I hadn't actually told her, and that, in some people's eyes, made me a chicken. It's not that I'm afraid of commitment. I just don't like having a serious girlfriend around to crimp my style. And I'm in love with Casey. And it's not that I'm afraid of rejection. Because I'm not accustomed to getting rejected. In fact, if someone does reject me or deny me something... I work my ass off to get it. I know no one thinks that I ever actually work at anything, but I do. Like, take hockey, for example. Okay, in the beginning, the guy wouldn't give me the position I wanted. So I worked harder than anyone... I practiced like a maniac, spending hours training... at home, at the skating rink, in the backyard in the snow... I worked my body to the bone. And I auditioned for the coach again, and I've been captain of the hockey team ever since. That happened in sixth grade, okay, see my point?

And our team wins, too. We're the best hockey team in our district. And let me tell you, it has little to do with Coach. I whip everyone's asses into gear, seriously. I mean, I've been playing hockey since like, what, kindergarten? So that's over two-thirds of my life. I'm serious about it. I even practice in the summer, just to keep in shape. Plus that means I can kick Sam's ass in any season. I so enjoy doing that. Especially that one game when I had like... six hat tricks. No joke. And it was so easy I also got an ultimate hat trick. Ah, that was a good game. A very, very long game. But it was so worth it. Oh, and I had a Gordie Howe hat trick at the end. I so kicked Sam's ass. Literally too. Oh, yeah, this was after he started dating Casey. In the summer. He hadn't been exercising at all 'cause he was busy with my sister. Ugh. I wiped the floor with him, though. I mean, hockey isn't a game of many points, mind you, but the score was 37 to 0. Can we say shutout?

"Just as I thought. You really _are_ too chicken to even tell me her first name. Gee, Derek, have we regressed to first grade? Why can little Derek have a crushy-wushy and tell his daddy, but not his little sister?" Casey continued maliciously, digging into me mockingly. The bitch knew she was getting under my skin. My fists clenched, and I was almost shaking in rage. Casey smirked at me. "I promise I won't tell," She whispered, putting a finger to her lips in the universal quiet sign. I turned around swiftly.

Okay, fine. She broke me down. She oughtta win a freaking prize. Casey broke Derek. Go ahead. Okay, fine! I tried to get out of it, but it seems like she really wants to know. So, you know what, I'm going to tell her! She better remember that she asked for it. She was practically begging for it, in fact. Screw the consequences! You know what, screw it all! I don't have to sit here and take this mockery. I don't have to listen to her baby talk and her snickering and her insults and her accusations and her patronizing Holier-Than-Thou attitude. I don't. I might love the girl, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let her just walk all over me. I have some self-respect, thanks. I have too much self-esteem to bend over backwards for her like this.

I shook my head at Casey. Oh, she'll get what she wants, all right. But she's going to find out that it isn't what she wants at all. And I can deal with that. It's not like I'm used to people loving me anyways. I'm not missing anything. I'll just get wasted tonight and screw some pretty girls to get her off my mind. Hey, I can relapse. It's not like I'm in AA. My problem's Casey, not alcohol. I hope she knows I'm going to hold her to that joking promise. Then again, I bet she'd be too embarrassed to tell a soul, even her precious Sammy-Whammy. So, you know what, screw it. Just... screw it. I don't even care anymore. I just can't keep this inside anymore. I can't keep it a secret anymore. And I'm not gonna cower in cowardice any longer. I'm going to lay it out on the table in the open and just accept the fall-out. This act I've been putting on is getting real thin real fast.

I nodded mockingly, feeling so irate that I saw red. I looked her straight in the eyes. "You _really_ want to know, don't you, Case?" I muttered, looking her over coldly. I was unconsciously clenching my teeth. Casey nodded too, clearly sick of the argument and ready for the truth. Oh, she only thinks she's ready for what I have to tell her. That's what she gets for pushing me to this extreme. I'm gonna burst all over her, and it'll be one hell of a mess for her to clean up and fix, now won't it? "_Fine_. I'll **tell** you, Case," I stated tersely, fully staring her down. Good. Casey met my stare. She won't be doing that anymore, not after this.

"That girl that I like?" I began almost hestitantly. That was just an act, though. I wanted to keep her in suspense for a bit, for starters. There was nothing hesitant about what I had to say, though. Not a hesitating bone in my body. "She's you," I snapped bluntly, pausing for a brief instance before continuing on. I had no mercy left for Casey. She pushed me to this, remember. The look of surprise hadn't even registered over her face yet, but I strode on. Better to drop two big bombs at once, after all. Who knows, maybe the shock will move her into a coma? Maybe she'll just faint or drop dead or something. Wouldn't that just be great? "And there's really no **like** about it at all, Case. You see... I'm in _love_ with you, Casey McDonald," I snarled brusquely, completely without any tact to speak off.

To say Casey was floored was an understatement. Her jaw practically dropped to the floor, and her eyes bugged out like saucers. It was somewhat nice to see that I had such an effect on her. I smirked because, really, it was all I could do. "I don't believe you," Casey whispered under her breath. That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was her pulling me into her room and slamming the door behind us. You know, maybe I'm not going to get rejected after all...

I smirked, glancing around her room. Why am I doing that? It's not like I haven't been in here before a bunch of times. "I knew you wanted me," I mumbled, putting my hands in my pockets. After all, who didn't want me? Casey's eyes flashed angrily, and a look of disgust crossed her face. Now that's a familiar face. But she'd better be careful or her features will get stuck like that. And as hot as I think that look is, I'm not sure I'd want to see it every day. I personally prefer her wrathful look. That glare is so hot.

Casey rolled her eyes at me, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just love to get under my skin, don't you?" Casey asked tiredly, walking closer to me. Does she even have to ask? I grinned in response, nodding slowly. I reached out a hand, putting it carefully on her shoulder. I can't believe she just let me do that. Then again, I just told her I'm in love with her.

"You're right. I do. I love a lot of things about you, Casey," I replied suggestively, trailing my hand down her arm. She's lucky I didn't drop some sexual innuendo in there. She was just asking for it with that "under my skin" comment. Casey swallowed hard and moved out of my grip. She sighed, looking at me and shaking her head at me. She obviously still didn't believe me. Oh, I'll make her believe, all right.

Casey shook her head hard. "You don't love me. You hate me, and I hate you. That's the way it's always been," Casey argued, not even able to look at me. She's honestly crazy if she thinks that. You know, I wish that was really all true. But you know, I do hate her sometimes. It still stung to hear her say that. I don't lie all the time, you know. Never really to Casey.

This time I shook my head almost violently. I laughed. She's so naïve... it's sickening. "I hate you, yeah, Case... But that doesn't mean that I'm not in love with you. You ever hear the saying... There's a thin line between love and hate? Well, it's true, okay! So if anyone's crazy here, Case, it's you, for not believing me!" I shouted, feeling indignant. I just couldn't believe that she didn't believe me. When have I ever lied to her? She had to have noticed how reluctant I was to tell her. How much I tried to get out of it! Is she blind?

Casey's eyes widened. "I'm in love with Sam. You know that!" Casey hissed, throwing her hands in the air. I know, I know, I know. I've had to hear about how much she loves Sam more times than I can count. And every stinking time I wanna puke from the sappiness of it all. She can't love that asshole. Honestly, she harps on that way too much. It's like she's overcompensating or something... Trying to be Super Girlfriend. Sam's a lousy boyfriend. I mean, late to his girlfriend's Halloween party and without a costume? Lameage. And she just let him get away with it. No arguing or nothing. She wouldn't let me get away with something like that. God, when it comes to Sammy, she's such a pushover. Well, they're a pushover power couple, I suppose. Maybe Casey's different around different people too...

I rolled my eyes at Casey, leaning in a little closer. "Does it look like I care?" I retorted irritably. I didn't, I really didn't... Had I ever? I wasn't even sure she was telling the truth most of the time. Casey bristled, shaking her head at me yet again. Jeez, Case, get a new gesture. What did I have to say to prove it to her? What Casey was really saying was that she didn't feel the same. She is so infuriating! Fine, you know what, I'll improvise. After all, it's what I'm best at. "Okay, you want _proof_? Why do you think I'm nice to you sometimes? Do you think it's just a coincidence that I started down a path of self-destruction **right** after you and I got in that awful fight? Why do you think I'm always flirting with you... I've tried to kiss you about _twenty_ times, Case. That's not me messing with your head... It's something else entirely. Why do you think I introduced you to my Granny as my girlfriend? Did you honestly buy that excuse? And why do you think I target Sam specifically in hockey practice, Case? Could it be because of the glaringly obvious fact that he's your boyfriend? Think about it," I snapped, stating my reasons. God. I've become a lawyer. As if she'd even believe me then.

Casey doesn't trust me, and I can't blame her. Casey's eyes were wide and wet. Great. I'm making her tear up... That means nothing good. She looked scared too... I guess from all the yelling. Yeah, I was frustrated on about fifty separate levels, but I felt guilty. Only Casey can make me feel guilt. And Marti, but only because she reminds me of my mom sometimes, and you know... she looks up to me. Marti's about the only person in the world who actually... I don't know. She just, she cares. She doesn't automatically assume the worst. And she never compares me to Casey or Sam or Edwin or some other, higher moral standard. Then again, Dad's not one to talk. He wonders why I'm so wild? Maybe it's because he's a spineless moron! Dad's the one who forgot his kid and his stepkid at school. He has no excuse. None whatsoever. So I don't get why he treats me like some second-class citizen. I mean, where the hell does he get off, huh? I don't forget that my little brother exists! Not like him.

In clearer terms, Casey looked absolutely petrified. She was even trembling slightly. I felt bad. Maybe I'd been too harsh. Should I... Should I apologize? "You do it all just to mess with my head! I don't believe you! The granny thing you did just to torture me. I don't know why I ever agreed. And don't you dare blame _your_ addictions, _your_ problems, on **me**! It's **not** my fault! As for what you said about Sam... I can't believe you would hurt your best friend just to get to me!" Casey screeched, fighting back tears. Great. She's crying.

"I only told my grandmother that because I wanted to touch you without you trying to kill me. So sue me. And, for the record, I would've let any of your friends come to the party, no strings attached... if you'd just asked. And it **is** your fault, Casey! Yeah, I might've made some crummy choices, and I can accept the blame for my actions... But that's _no_ excuse for you telling me all that stuff, acting like I didn't have feelings! God, Casey, you act like you're the only one who ever feels any pain! I told you there are worse things than physical pain, and I meant it! You tell me that the **day** after I'd figured out that I was in love with you... and you call _me_ heartless! You as much as pushed me to the edge of that cliff, Casey!" I screamed frustratedly, pointing an accusatory finger at Casey. I paused briefly, coolling down a little, before I went on to the subject of Sam, her "loving" boyfriend.

"As for Sam... Please. I'd rather have you than his worthless friendship any day. Besides, what the hell kind of boyfriend is he anyways? He's late for about half of your dates, like _now_ for instance. It's what, your sixth month anniversary and he's, what, over an hour late? He came to your Halloween party two hours late and without a costume. He didn't say goodbye to you after you fell asleep that night, and he practically begged me to put you to bed. Sam is the biggest _pansy_ I have **ever** met! And you know what, when you're around him, you act all _spineless_ too! For crying out loud, you two wouldn't even be dating if **I **hadn't given him my approval and _told_ him to go after you. I practically had to force him. Now, tell me, Casey, what the hell kind of boyfriend is that? I treat my flavors of the week better than he treats you!" I argued passionately, feeling my hate for Sam increase by the minute.

Casey shook her head, mouth slightly open in outrage. "It's not true. Sam's a _perfect_ gentleman, unlike you," Casey disagreed primly, shooting me a disdainful look. It was true. She just doesn't see it. Oh, and you'd think that was enough, right? But nooo... Casey continues. Casey goes on about her oh-so wonderful boytoy. "And if there's one thing I know, it's that Sam is not at all like you. Sam is a feminist. Sam loves me. And Sam is not a **whore**. He would never, ever make me do something I don't want. He would never cheat on me. Sam is a good person... and you are not," Casey continued snobbishly, practically sticking her nose up in the air.

I just shrugged. Nice to know that she thinks so little of me. "I might not be perfect. I might not be a good man. And I am most certainly not a gentleman. But just let me tell you, you don't know Sam as well as I do. I've known him for eleven _years_. Trust me, they don't just call him King of Babes because he rocks at Babe Raider. He's been with girls before **you**, Casey, and he will be with girls after you. As for the way you say I treat girls... First of all, I _always_ pay for dinner. It might be chicken, but I will pay for my date's dinner. On a rare occasion, we will go dutch. And Sam's the one with the job, isn't he, Case? Funny how that works, isn't it? I'm _never_ late for a date, but if I am... I at least have the **decency** to call. And even then, it's only a few minutes. Yeah, I might be a bit of a playboy, but I don't give any of them illusions about the relationship. I don't cheat on them, since we're never exclusive in the first place. I don't lead them on. And I go after what I want on my own initiative. So, Case, who's the one with more courtesy towards women? It's **not** Sam," I muttered heatedly, irritated beyond belief. Sam isn't as good of a guy as they make him out to be.

Casey shook her head again. Why the hell can't she see that Sam is a loser? "You're an _ass_, you know that?" Casey hissed bitterly. She looked down, fidgeting so much it drove me crazy. And then, in a very quiet voice, she spoke again. "And... you c-_can't_ love me. You can't love anyone except **yourself**!" Casey began slowly, weakly... but then the comment degenerated into an insult a la Carly Simon. That most certainly was not true. That... That was the last straw for me. I mean, yeah, disbelief is one thing... but saying that I'm incapable of love? That was just vicious, cruel, and untrue.

I clenched my jaw, clenching my hands into fists so hard that my nails dug into my skin. I think I was silently shaking. My face must've been completely red by that point, but I just couldn't take it anymore. I was fed up. I forced myself to exhale. I didn't care that Casey looked afraid. I had to get her to grasp this. Period. I sighed once more, forcing myself to relax a little. I plastered that bitter smile on my face, and I told her like I've never told her before. I was damn serious, and it was about time that she saw that. "You wanna know _why_ I'm such an ass to you all the time? It's to cover up for the fact that every time I see you I want to kiss the living _daylights_ out of you! But I can't do that. Think of how it would look... So I say something stupid instead to try and cover up how I feel, and I unleash that frustration on you. And I'm **sorry** for that. I don't _want_ to feel this way. I don't **want** to act like I do. But I do it anyways... because I'm just a screw-up. That's all I _really_ am to you, isn't it, Casey? And I'm not stupid. I **know** you don't feel the same. But, you know what, I **don't** care! I just _thought_ you needed to know," I declared passionately, almost violently, gesticulating rapidly with my hands. I paused for a second, finally pressing onwards and finishing my damn speech with a big bang. "So don't you _dare_ say that I _can't_ love you because I **can** and I **do** and that's _not_ going to change anytime soon!"

That being said, I grabbed Casey and pushed her against the closed door. I did that and I gave her the biggest kiss of her life. I could feel my lips bruising at the touch, but I didn't care. I could taste blood, but I didn't care. I wanted Casey. That's all. I wanted her so bad it physically hurt. So I just kissed her harder and I closed my eyes. Because it was all I could do. She wasn't going to love me. And she wasn't going to leave Sam. But she couldn't quite reject me either. And it's not like she fought me off. She kissed me back, all right. I engraved every minute detail of the moment into my brain. The way it felt, the passion, the energy, the sparks, the way she tasted... the way it felt like the heart she says I don't have was breaking, but I was still whole and in pain. And it hurt, but it was like kissing her was holding me together. Even though I'd completely lost my mind and fallen head over heels for her. And I can't be with her. That's what kills me. Guess you can't always get what you want, can you? Well, sorry, Mick, but I'm not getting what I need either. I need Casey.

I ran my hands down her skin. It was so soft, and I knew she'd never let me touch her again. She was so warm through the thin fabric... I pushed her sleeves down a little more. Let's see how far I can push it, shall we? I groaned, bit her lip. Then I let my lips trail down her neck, but I couldn't stay away. My lips trailed back up, and I savagely crushed them back against hers... where they belonged. I licked her lips, tasted her. I moaned, felt her tears against my cheek. I wanted more. I didn't even breathe. I didn't want to. I just wanted to kiss her. I broke the kiss for one second, looking her straight in the eyes. "I _love_ you," I swore vehemently, honestly... seconds before I captured her lips again, moaning against her lips in rapture. A second later, a breathless Casey broke the kiss.

Her lips were flushed and very swollen. I was proud to admit that her lipstick was horribly smeared. I was tempted to wipe it off, but she'd deck me if I tried it. I knew that. So instead I swiped at my own lips. Gotta look manly after all. Can't look suspicious, or they might actually realize what's going on with Casey and me. Ha, yeah right. Casey looked horrified and quickly opened the door, practically shoving me out of her room.

I did what I usually do... acted my ass off. I smirked like I was still that cocky bastard I'd always been, who was actually... happy! I winked at Casey and looked as amused and proud of myself as I could. Like I hadn't just given her my heart back there without her even caring. I leaned in so close that I could see the fear written all over her face. And then I said enigmatically, "No matter how hot the girl is, I _always_ pretend I'm having sex with you."

That wasn't entirely true, but I'd thought about Casey more often than anyone else. I smiled merrily at the horribly red blush on her face. She looked like a tomato. But she was my... Sam's. Of course. How could I ever forget? The smile immediately dropped off my face to be replaced with a frown. She wasn't mine at all. It would do me best to remember that. I heard Dad call Casey once again from downstairs. "Casey, Sam's here for you!" He shouted.

I felt my skin crawl at the name, a look of disgust crossing my face. Casey shot me a glare and pushed past me forcibly. As amusing as the idea of Casey going downstairs with lipstick smeared drunkenly all over her face was... I wasn't about to let Casey's infidelity be exposed. After all, she'd started things... but I'd finished them. "Hey, Sis, you might want to wipe off that lipstick that's smeared all over your face. Wouldn't want the boyfriend to find out about the secret affair you've been having with your stepbrother, eh?" I grunted nonchalantly, enjoying mocking her immensely.

Casey grimaced, giving me a dirty look. She looked positively disgusted with me... but she wiped her lips nonetheless. Ha. I win this time. Her lip curled into a sneer. "How can you even call me _sister_ after what you just told me? You're **sick**, Derek," A disgusted (yet flustered) Casey spat, wiping at her lips harder... as if she wanted to get me off of her lips. The taste of me, I mean.

I just smirked again, shrugging. "No _blood_ relation!" I called smugly after her. My eyes narrowed irritably. "Give your boyfriend my regards!" I yelled bitterly, turning around and charging towards my sanctuary. I swore that I wasn't going to look back, but I did anyways. And Casey was looking at me too. She was still looking at me when she tripped on the first step. Maybe it's not as hopeless as it seems... Maybe. Just Maybe.

Then again, a second later, she was glaring at me so coldly it made me stop dead in my tracks. She headed stiffly down the stairs without another word. Her cold posture was enough. How's that for a mixed signal. Still... That wasn't much of a reaction on her part. I still don't know how she feels. And that's what really irks me. But, as much as I would love to ruminate on that subject, and stew in my room... I need a drink.

All I have to do is sneak out the window, and... Maybe if I drink enough, I can forget this night even happened. It's not like I even matter to Casey. Who cares what happens to me anyways? Marti. That's it. On that note... I know how I'm going to spend the rest of this fine night. Drinking it is.

Loren ;

Reviews are much appreciated. Thank you all for continuing to review. I love you guys! Lol, if I didn't, it wouldn't feel like I've got carpal tunnel right now. Lol. So help an author out and ree-vieu-eww. Long-ass reviews are especially appreciated. ;) Hint, hint. Lol, anyways, again, thanks. I couldn't do it without you guys.


	14. Right Before My Eyes

Grace a Dieu! It finally lets me update!

Just when you were about to give up on me, here I am... ;) With an update! You should know by now that I'm not one of those namby-pamby posts-an-author's-note-chapter-authors. If you wish for an explanation over the rather long hiatus, read the long note below.

Randomly... Isn't it strange that there's a picture of Casey when she was little next to Derek's room? And his chicken pox looked so fake, seriously. I know 'cause I'm an oldtimer who actually had chicken pox. I remember them more as little bumpy dotty things that were red and itchy.

Okay, so to the real important part here. I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I really am. I was traveling in July and August, and then school started up, and the Junior Year is really Hell for homework. And then, eventually, when I tried to write this chapter (you see, I wrote out pretty much the whole dialogue at once and interspersing thoughts and actions with dialogue can be incredibly boring and tedious if you're not in the right mood), I became completely uninspired since I hadn't seen a new episode in forever. But as of late I've seen more new episodes, which helped a bit, enough to get me thinking about it. To be honest, that didn't really help me at all.

See, the Casey chapters are ALWAYS the hardest for me. Always. Because Casey is a far more boring and more analytical character than Derek. And frankly, I think closer to Derek than I do Casey, which is rather sad, considering Casey and I have more in common. So that is why they will take forever. Now, I happen to have a remedy for this the next time around with the Casey chapter, since I'm speeding up the story a bit. Something big will happen in the next Casey chapter. This chapter and the next one are pretty much filler chapters to the real action of the story. This chapter exists mainly to show Casey's reaction to Derek's declaration, which is honestly quite complicated and often contradictory. Casey's really all over the place in this chapter. She's about twice as confused as she usually is.

Now, anyways, back to my little story. So I did feel bad about not updating this fic. Terrible, actually, but we'll not go into my guilt issues right now. I asked a trusted friend (whom you will all hate in a moment) what I should do, since I felt obligated to update this story but couldn't write anything for it and honestly was bursting to write my other fic more, despite the fact that that fic is over 300,000 words longer than this one and the chapters are at least 2-3 times longer than the ones for this story. My friend said I should just leave this one until I got inspired again and that I should work on the other one. Naturally, I agreed with her, because I was getting absolutely nothing done. So I wrote another chapter or two for that one, which was pretty long. And then I started to write the next chapter for it and encountered the same problem as I did for this story about four pages in. Except that chapter is actually very important and exciting later on.

Anyways, so then I got this random plot bunny idea, and of course it didn't leave me alone, so I went after it and started writing it and had a marvelously good time being all serious and depressing. And I seriously got out 36 pages of it (not counting the excess dialogue that is yet to be worked in) before it got tiring to be sad and depressing and guilty all the time. So I decided to try something lighter. This fic occurred to me when the other fic I mentioned didn't work. Yeah, that was like, Friday-Thursday night whenever. And in the past two days since I've written 'bout five and ½ pages. Yay! So I decided to stay up just a little bit later to get it done. And here you go.

Now as for the people whom I promised a double update (which I rather did want), I'm sorry, but that promise was only half-kept. After all, I figured everyone would want to see the chapter they've been waiting on for about five months. On the bright side, the chapter is nearly as long as two regular chapters, if that makes you feel any better.

Also, two important milestones to mark here: 1. This story is officially past a year old. 2. With this chapter, said story's word count will have surpassed the big 1-0...0,000. Yep, that's right, over 100,000 words, baby! That will also make it the longest Life With Derek fic in existence by a long-shot, which it actually is already, even though the other two fics even remotely close to its size both have more chapters (but it'll make it the only fic over 100,000 words). Sweet, huh?

I tried to post this REPEATEDLY Sunday morning (at like 3-ish, 4-ish) as well as Monday morning, but the site didn't let me. It kept having errors. In fact, it was still having errors when I tried to update this this afternoon, but I put this in .txt form, so excuse me if you can't see any of the italics and bolds and such stuff. Oh, and then when I tried to go to the support site to login and report the error/ask for help, it wouldn't let me log in. And it's not that I forgot my password or anything. I just got a blank screen, and it wouldn't let me see any of the answers to the questions (hint: something they should maybe fix). And so I was wondering who I complain to about not being able to log into the support site to file a complaint. Can we say Catch-22? Fortunately, however, I read an author's note in a summary that talked about how she used Notepad to update, so I figured I'd give it a shot. And it worked! Anyways, sorry about the delay.

* * *

"Casey's in this totally messed up relationship with Sam, and I just..."

* * *

It was hard to believe that it was just another routine morning in the Venturi-McDonald house. For once, no one was late for their shower or hogging the bathroom (Derek). It was all so surreal. After Derek had said... what he said... It was just unbelieveable to me that life could go on so, so... normally! There was nothing normal about what he told me that night. Derek wasn't a person of many words, but he sure surprised me. How long had he been holding all of that back?

But, you know what, I'm not going to think about that right now. I need to focus on other things. Normally, I'd be thinking about my anniversary with Sam last night, but, continuing the tradition of all of our anniversaries, it went horribly. May I remind you of the Monthaversary fiasco? Yes. Unbelieveably, this almost went worse than that. Sam was two hours late, and I had to pay for the whole dinner since he didn't have any money. As if that wasn't bad enough, he ordered steak.

I think he picked a fight with me too. It might look like Sam and I have the perfect relationship, but we don't... not really. Every couple has their problems. But Sam's a sweet guy most of the time, so it doesn't matter. And there's another problem... We don't have that much in common besides school and, well... Isn't it obvious? Yeah... That would be Derek. Sam made a comment about me being off in some other place, and maybe I would like to be there with another guy... That was stupid, of course.

Yes, I was distracted, but wouldn't you be too if your stepbrother, whom you hate with a passion that rivals the love you feel for your boyfriend, professed his love for you? I can't believe I just... thought that. That's like I'm accepting it. And I'm not! That's just... sickening and wrong! So wrong! My point is that I had a reason. Sam was over two hours late without an excuse, AND he made me pay for the date. But did he hear me complain? No, of course not. But I went through a traumatic experience, and he had no sympathy for me. Then again, maybe I'm shortchanging Sam here. I bet he would've been sympathetic if I told him. He probably would've even beat Derek up or something. Right?

Okay, so things got a bit heated. It wasn't like we were really yelling at each other. Sam and I do not yell, either separately or when we're together. It was a rather hushed fight, not involving a lot of talking. I don't want to think about that either. Sam sort of broke up with me again after I told him that I was distracted because of Derek but could not tell him anything beyond that. I personally thought that was a lousy reason for him to storm out and make a scene like that... Sam really isn't the type to make a scene. It hurt hearing that, but we break up over stupid things like that a lot and then we're back together the next day... no harm done. Sam would eventually come to his senses and apologize. After all, he knew Derek better than anyone, right? Or maybe he didn't... Derek sort of seemed to hate his best friend. That's not healthy whatsoever.

I'll make up with Sam at school. I'm not worried... I love him... and I think he loves me. And... that's all that matters. We'll definitely get back together. Only...

What happens if someday we don't get back together? What happens if one of us goes too far and...

I've never even told Sam I love him. How can I tell Derek that I love Sam, but not Sam? I just don't... What happens, you know? Just... What if?

Well, that's obviously not going to happen. You'll see at school. We'll all see.

I knew this morning was too good to be true. There's Derek, ever the bane of my existence, to go and mess things up royally. Derek breezed through the room, snatching the cereal box out of my hands. It was just so unbelieveable. We were the only two people in the room, so I felt the need to reply. "If you really loved me, you'd let me have the cereal," I retorted irritably. The cereal box promptly fell out of Derek's grip. I stared at the box on the ground, annoyed. "Make the woman you love pick up a cereal box?" I muttered disapprovingly.

Derek finally looked at me, and, though he visibly flinched, managed to shrug. "All the better to admire your ass, my dear," He replied, a canine smile spreading across his features. Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? Maybe... me. But don't ever tell Derek I said that. He would never let me live it down, and that would just mean that he wins... again. This is one battle I am not letting him win. I will not lose this war. I groaned and bent down to pick up the cereal box, only to be surprised by Derek grabbing my butt. I jumped about a foot in the air and barely managed to set the cereal box down on the counter.

I immediately spun around, screaming his name, and slapped him hard across the face. Four times. Derek's cheeks were red afterwards and that satisfied me immeasurably. Derek glowered at me and I wisely chose the opportunity to back away. "Jeez, Dere... Always so violent. So angry. With you or not, I have this nasty feeling I'm going to end up filing domestic abuse charges," I jeered, smirking. That was actually a really good insult. Derek's eyes blazed like a bonfire.

Then, naturally, he covered up his anger with a smirk, which I found to be slightly disappointing. It also seemed to prove the contrary of the point I had just made. "You realize that that's like a statement that you've actually considered being with me, much less in a domestic situation... like marriage or living together," Derek pointed out somewhat intelligently. Naturally, I was horrified, partly because he was actually right... and partly because he just brought up marriage... MARRIAGE... so casually. Like maybe he'd actually thought about it... with me... and... That's terrifying. It was a wonder I managed to say anything to that, come to think of it.

I was not _considering_ him! Derek is not an option! He is only an option for the mentally deranged! Derek is a poison that must be eliminated from this earth! Why can no one see that?! Why?!?!! Then I thought of something, realizing what I had actually meant by that previous statement. And it wasn't that I was considering hooking up with him. I suddenly felt much more relieved. "In case you forgot, _Bro_, we're already living together!" I exclaimed, smacking him upside the head. Let's hope I just smacked some sense into him.

Derek scowled at me, rubbing the spot where I'd just hit him. Guess I might've just shattered some of his pitiful hopes. Well, it's not like I care. He's been a total ass to me since the beginning. I mean, honestly, what was he expecting with me telling him that? Did he think I'd just melt and go running into his arms? Puh-lease. Do I look like one of those Harlequin Romance girls who throws it all away for a roll in the hay with a "dark and mysterious stranger"? No. Obviously I am not like the sluts Derek dates or has sex with. Every. Damn. Night. Bang. Bang. Bang. Oh, yeah! Ooh... Against. The. Wall. That. Faces. My. Bedroom. He knows I can hear him, and he does it on purpose, and it really interferes with my sleep at night, the constant screwing! "Do you caress _Sam_ with that hand?" Derek growled, shooting me a dark look.

I felt my face turn pink. Yes, in fact, I do. But that's none of Derek's business... supposed "best" friend or not. I ought to tell Sam the truth about his so-called friendship with Derek. Then again, maybe I ought not to. It might wreck his little world or something, and as much as I don't want Derek the Cancer in Sam's life... Sam would be so broken up about it. He knows about my legendary hatred for Derek, so he might blame me. That would be just terrible! Or he might not believe me! That would be worse! Oh, I hate Derek! I really do!

I gave Derek a dirty look. "You're just jealous," I snarled, knowing that it would make him mad. Derek saw jealousy of a sign of weakness. It made you pathetic, a thing to be pitied. And that was exactly what Derek did not want to be. Predictably, he was furious. As I said, Derek is usually very predictable. And, yes, he is a force to be reckoned with when he's enraged... a force to be feared, even. But, hey, I figure he loves me, right? So I'm immune. That is also why I am having an inordinately large amount of fun with this. Derek loves me, and this means that I can push him around all I want, and he can't do a damn thing. It's great.

Derek just seethed and said nothing. Therefore, this was just a silent admission that he was actually jealous. I felt so victorious. That is, until he spoke again. "Me, jealous of Sam? Come on, now, Casey. That is seriously _weak_. I mean, yeah, Sam has you. But, honestly, how long can that _really_ last? Especially when you break up every other day. Face it, Case... You'll succumb to my charms eventually. You might as well give in now," Derek retorted, scoffing. That hated smirk crossed his face again, and he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, opening his arms to me. I glared at Derek, pushing him away violently.

Derek scowled at me, snatching back the cereal box from me. The nerve! Derek grinned crookedly, holding the cereal box out of my reach. He kept making me jump up to grab it and then jerking it out of my way. Grr. Fine, then. I'll just have to play dirty. I punched Derek in the stomach and snatched the box out of his grip. However, unfortunately for me, Derek, being the barnacle that he is, kept holding on to the box, so I lost my balance. I flew backward and hit the floor with Derek falling on top of me.

I was pretty much in Pain City, Population: Casey. Stupid Derek. Well, long story short, I kneed Derek in the groin. We kinda wound up wrestling. On the floor, over the cereal box. I was on top, grabbing for the cereal box. "You know, Case, I really love it when you're on top. And all that wriggling you're doing is really turning me on," Derek growled, lying on his back. Needless to say, I stopped moving. Then I realized that not moving meant that Derek was twice as likely to kiss me or something stupid like that. So maybe I started moving again.

All I know is that we were still on the floor wrestling and that Derek was on top when I think... Was it Lizzie and Edwin... walked in. I guess they must've got Mom and George because next thing I knew, I was sprawled out across Derek's chest, reaching over for the cereal box. And that was when Mom and George walked in and started yelling, of course. So I wound up falling completely against Derek. As if on cue, the box fell out of Derek's hands. Oy vey. "What is the meaning of this?!" My mother exclaimed, horrified.

I glanced at Derek, and, well, neither of us had any ideas. "Um... I wanted the cereal, and Derek wouldn't give it to me. So I tried to grab it and, um, sort of lost my balance... and... uh... fell on top of him... accidentally, of course," I tried to explain somewhat awkwardly. Derek snorted loudly and I pretended to "accidentally" elbow him in the stomach. "Oops, sorry, Derek!" I screeched, batting my eyelashes at him.

Unbelievably, that made him shut up. "We saw you wrestling," George stated in a monotone voice. I shrugged. Okay, so I was screwed. Derek grinned brightly and pushed me off of him none-too-gently. This from the guy that's supposedly in love with me. Love is strange. Especially when it concerns Derek. To be honest, I'm still not sure I believe him. I mean... It's just such an odd concept. Derek, Playboy of the Year, in love. It's crazy. And speaking of which, I have to go to school, which gives me an excuse to get out of here.

I flew to my feet, snatching my backpack along the way, and raced out the door before anyone could stop me. I was taking a leisurely walk to school with Emily, of course, when Derek practically barreled into me. He was actually running. "Casey! Emily!" He said, worming his way in between the two of us and draping his arms around both of our shoulders. I knew he was staring at me, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of looking. That is, until he kissed me sloppily on the cheek. Ew. It was wet and gross, so I pushed him off my shoulder and wiped off my face.

I began to deliberately ignore Derek. That in and of itself is a hard feat to accomplish. Almost impossible. That's what Derek does. He makes it so you can't possibly ignore him... It drives me up the wall. A sudden idea occurred to me, so I turned to Emily. Hopefully, Derek would get the message. "Hey, Emily... Don't you think that if you love someone... you should set them free? You know, free to love other people whom they _love_?" I phrased somewhat awkwardly. I knew it sounded a bit weird, but I didn't care. I was busy driving the knife into Derek's side.

Derek made a face, frowning. He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Just perfect. He gets the point. Derek should stop pursuing me like a dog. I love Sam. Why doesn't he get that? I mean, I know he's stupid, but even Derek can't be that stupid. I've made myself perfectly clear about the whole damn thing. It's not like I've mislead him or led him on or anything. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely noticed Emily's thoughtful response. "Yeah, I guess I do," She agreed, staring off into space, a frown on her face.

I felt like gloating. I shot Derek a victorious look. "**Ha**! See, Derek, _Emily_ agrees with me!" I proclaimed brightly, grinning at Emily. Even Emily agrees that Derek should lay off of me! That he should let me be with Sam, my boyfriend, whom I love muchly. Thank you, Emily. See, it's not so crazy after all. Maybe Derek will listen to her. Wait a second. This is Derek. He's not gonna listen to Emily.

He'll just convince her of _his_ point. Emily will give in like she always does. Derek just shrugged frostily. "Whatever, Case. Doesn't mean it's gonna happen," Derek responded coolly. He stared me down icily. Well, you raised the challenge, Dere. Live with it.

Emily, who had been peering between the both of us confusedly, spoke. "Are we talking about Derek here?" Emily asked confusedly. My eyes widened in horror. No! How did Emily catch on?! I thought I was being subtle! I saw Derek grin widely, evilly, and I just knew he was going to tell Emily. I couldn't let that happen. She'll hate me! I tried to say something, but once again, Derek beat me to the punch.

He smirked widely, eyes glittering darkly. He briefly caressed Emily's cheek. She relished the contact, of course. I felt so bad for her. He is completely leading her on! It's horrible to have to watch. "Yes, Emily. Yes, we are. We're always talking about Derek, right, Case? And this, of **all** things, is completely about me, despite what our little _princess_ here says," Derek said, at once so brazenly cocky that I wanted to slap him black and blue. He gestured toward me with his thumb, rolling his eyes at me.

Emily better not believe him! But... she's Emily. So of course she will. Oh well, might as well try and remedy the situation. "Don't believe him! He's a horrible liar!" I screeched vehemently, shooting Derek a truly vicious glare. His eyes narrowed, but he knew Emily would believe him. I knew it too...

She did, too. She slowly shook her head. "No... No... He's right." My heart flew up to my throat. I felt somewhat ill. I mean, Emily knows what's going on and... and Derek's right. And she knows we're talking about him and me and... I am so completely screwed. "Actually, you're both right." I immediately relaxed. Wait... Both right? How does that...

I'm confused. Is that good or bad? "How's that work?" Derek interrupted, crossing his hands over his chest. He looked vaguely irritated. How did he do that? I swear, he just read my mind! Seriously, though... I mean, we can't both be right... can we?

What Emily said next both surprised and relieved me. "I... I need to let you go, Derek. You're like a bird, and you need to be free to pursue your love. I could never tame you," Emily sniffed, almost getting a bit weepy about it. That is quite possibly the most corny faux love speech I've ever heard in my life. Poor Emily. I feel bad for her. It's so embarrassing when your feelings aren't reciprocated. And so poetically tragic. Hm, I think I'll write a poem or two about it later. But she can't possibly be in love with Derek. That's just ridiculous! How could anyone love Derek? The only thing he really loves is himself... despite what he says. Who can trust what Derek says anyways? He's a no good, dirty, rotten liar of the highest order.

She's right about one thing. Derek is not the kind of man any woman can domesticate. But I can take him down a peg or two, and trust me, I fully intend to do so. He thinks he's in love with me from some error in judgment and... I'm going to use that to my advantage. He thinks I'm still too nice to be sneaky. Ha. He doesn't know me one bit. There's a reason I was the most popular girl at Fletcher Academy... and it wasn't because I was nice. Although I am, of course. Derek won't even want to look at me by the time I'm done with him, much less in love with me. A slightly bewildered and almost embarrassed (however, it is impossible to be truly embarrassed when you have no shame, like Derek) look crossed his face. "Uh... okay. Yeah," He began awkwardly, shooting me a mischievous grin, "Hear that, Case? Even _Emily_ thinks I need to pursue my love."

I'm sure he was about to add a 'for you' in there, but I punched him, hard, might I add, in the arm. That shut him up more effectively than my words. Ah, all these years I've argued against violence have been in vain. I had to make him see how stupid he was. "Shut up, Derek. By pursuing your love, you're only making an even bigger idiot of yourself. And trust me, that **is** a mighty feat," I jeered, crossing my arms over my chest. It was true. I clearly did not feel the same. So what's there to pursue? His best friend's girlfriend? How cruel can he be? If Sam knew... he'd be devastated!

He would, wouldn't he? I wonder if Sam would treat me any differently if he knew how Derek thinks he feels about me... Oh, no. That's a bad train of thought. Derek would most certainly tell Sam about that horrible mistake of a kiss that might've occurred between us... several times. But it didn't mean anything at all to me! And I thought Derek was Sam... I mean, it was dark, and my eyes were closed. And I'd just woken up.

And I'm the real idiot here. There were so many signs, and I just ignored them... like I was some slut who actually wanted to kiss Derek. But I didn't. They weren't signs that he was Derek, after all. They were just signs that he wasn't Sam. That just means that subconsciously I might've maybe wanted to kiss someone who isn't Sam. Well, stupid girl, Derek is most assuredly not Sam. He is Sam's opposite in virtually every conceivable way. Sam is water... and Derek is fire.

Which is why Emily, myself, and all other women should, of course, stay the hell away from him. Like the fire that Derek is so fond of... He burns. And I most certainly do not want a brand of dishonor. Emily shook her head and predictably agreed with Derek. It's people like her that make him think he's a god incarnate. I honestly don't get what they see in him. Maybe that's just it. They don't see the insidious parasite that Derek is. They're blinded to his faults. What is he, the sun? "No, Casey. Derek should. He _deserves_ happiness... What, Derek, are you _actually_ in love with someone?" Emily questioned incredulously, curiosity burning in her eyes, suddenly remembering that Derek had proclaimed love for a woman. Yeah, I know! I can't believe it either! Derek shot me a bemused glance. He _deserves_ happiness? Not when it involves **me**; he doesn't!

Why did I ever goad him into answering me? I should've known something was wrong when he actually wanted to tell me! Derek smirked and puffed out his chest a bit. Stupid braggart. He popped his collar, a habit of his that personally drives me up the wall. He swaggered forward a bit, turning around to face Emily, pointing a finger at her, and walking backwards. Made me think he was drunk already. "You know, Emily... I am _quite_ glad you asked me that," Derek said, making a grandiose gesture. I rolled my eyes. And he calls me a drama queen. "Yes... In fact... I **am**," Derek proclaimed boldly, grinning like a madman and throwing his hands in the air. I don't know why, but it felt like the bottom was dropping out from under me. It wasn't like I didn't already know how he supposedly felt. It just sounded so final... and annoyingly true, like he honestly believed that. But it had to be a lie, you see... A clever lie to piss me off in all the right ways as he loves to do... with designs of making me look like a complete and utter fool.

"_Damn_, it feels good to **finally** tell someone else that. To finally get that off my chest," Derek sighed, closing his eyes contentedly, and patting his chest. He sounded relieved... unlike me. How can he be so... normal about this? This is not normal, you know. It's abnormal, that's what it is. Abnormal and wrong. "I mean, sheesh, I told Casey, and she's being such a **bitch** about it. A lot of girls would be happy that I told them that. But not Casey." Derek exclaimed irritably, shooting me a vexed look. I can't believe he just called me a bitch. And Emily is going to let him, too! She's going to take his side like the traitor she is! Derek's eyes settled on me with a slightly pained, but still admiring glance. "_Never_ Casey," He murmured mockingly, sneering at me bitterly before looking down at the ground.

Coward. And Emily was just being stupid. It's not like Derek was making any effort to hide that he was talking about me. Anyone could've easily gotten that from his words... as he clearly intended. He wanted Emily to find out! If other girls would be happy to hear it, then why didn't he tell one of them? Why doesn't he go try to make one of them happy? Why does he go after me... I, who want nothing whatsoever to do with him! I have a boyfriend. Sam. And I love Sam very, very much. Why can Derek not see that? Why doesn't he understand real love? Emily frowned at me. Great. See, I was right. She did take his side after all. "Casey! Why aren't you encouraging him? I mean, do you think Derek falls in love with someone every day?" Emily admonished, shooting me a slight glare.

Obviously, Em didn't take Derek's words as they were intended. And being honest is really such a new thing for him. My eyes hardened as I stared at Derek. He just stood there, uncaring and cool, in the middle of the sidewalk. But I knew different. I knew how to make him angry... but more importantly, I knew how to control him. "Give him time, Em, _trust_ me. He'll get over it," I vowed huskily, staring Derek down.

If it's a battle of wits he wants... Oh, who am I kidding? Derek has no wits to battle with. He's messing with the wrong girl. I'm not like the stupid girls at our school. I refuse to fall for that Derek Venturi is God mentality. I've seen all of his faults, and I know better than anyone that he's not as infallible as he likes to make himself out to be. And he is most definitely not perfect. He's about as far from it as you can get.

Derek rolled his eyes, putting his hand to the side of his mouth, talking to Emily in a stage whisper. I could hear him perfectly, and he kept sneaking these annoying sideways glances at me. It just about drove me crazy. "That's what she keeps telling herself, anyways. She thinks if she says that enough, it'll actually become true." Derek's words made my blood boil. He will get over it. He has to. He better. Or... I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be pretty. Derek better watch out. That's all I can really, legally say.

A confused look crossed Emily's face, possibly at the fact that Derek was talking to her. Especially since his words were clearly meant for me. He thinks he's being clever and vague by mouthing off about me to Emily. He knows she'll agree, too. And this way I can't say anything because he's not directly addressing me. Smart, Derek... I'll give him that. But he's not near smart enough, I'm afraid. "Um, Derek, why does Casey have a problem with you being in love?" Emily asked, sensing that something about the whole situation wasn't right. It's about time. She shot me a wary glance like she was afraid I was going to eat her or something. I rolled my eyes in irritation. Why won't this conversation end? I continued walking.

If they want to be left behind, then so be it. I'll turn my backs on the both of them if I have to. Some of us actually have to get to school, you know. Some of us don't skip every other day. I wasn't far enough away from them, though, that I couldn't hear Derek's voice. It was carried over to me by the wind like a personal message from Zephyr. Or in this case, Derek. He had clearly raised his voice, knowing I could hear him. I bet you anything he's got one eye fixed on me, giving me that look. "Because she _knows_ who I'm in love with. She doesn't approve of my feelings in the least," Derek stated summarily, like that was all there was to the matter... some error of judgment on my part. Like I was the wrong one!

But that's him, of course. Always him. I can't ignore Derek to save my life. He makes it utterly impossible. He drives me up the wall and over the moon. I don't know why I even bother. Besides, hadn't Derek already said he told me? How slow is Emily to believe his veiled truths? I spun around to face him, stopping dead in my tracks. Hands on my hips, I turned on him, yelling and screaming, "That's because it's **wrong**, Derek! _Why_ don't you get that?! It's wrong, and she'll **never** love you!" Well, it could've been worse, I guess. Derek could've told Emily the reason I had a problem with him being in love was because he was in love with ME... Or worse, because I wanted him. Ha. Me wanting Derek? Yeah right.

My words might've stung. They probably did, come to think of it. But in that moment, I didn't care in the least if Derek was hurt. He deserved it. He did love me, after all. You love someone, and you pay the price. People aren't always going to love you back. Period. Derek needs to learn that. I panted, trying to regain my breath. Derek appeared unaffected for the most part, but his face hardened just a bit. Only I noticed. Emily winced at the harshness of my outburst, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It was, after all, Derek's fault. At least, that's what I kept telling myself, anyways. A deeper part of me thought that perhaps this was God playing a cruel joke on me. Or that I had perhaps done something to start Derek's infatuation and make him think that this... would be a good idea. But I hadn't, had I? "_Ouch_, Casey. Don't you think that's a bit harsh? I doubt the girl could be that cold-hearted," Emily said concernedly, putting her hand on Derek's shoulder.

Cold-hearted? I'm cold-hearted?! What about Derek? He's worse! It isn't harsh when he deserves it, sick perv that he is! Derek patted her hand, somehow smiling, probably because he knew he was ticking me off more and more by the minute. "Oh, Emily, don't doubt it," He replied cheerily, shooting me a dark look, "Casey is _very_ harsh and cold." Derek would know, wouldn't he? He was making me sick to my stomach.

I glared viciously at Derek, thus proving his point... which was exactly what he wanted in the first place. Derek quickly removed his hand, as well as hers... lest she think it was a romantic gesture. Well, I am impressed. I thought he was more heartless than that. Good for Derek. Just watch, he'll be an ass less than five minutes later. Mark my words. Emily's eyes lit up, and she suddenly realized something. If I squinted, I could almost see a lightbulb over her head. How quaint. She finally realizes something. A cold dread ran through me. Maybe she realized that I was the girl Derek was talking about. He had basically said that I was the girl with his last comment. How _could_ she miss that? "Wait, you said Casey knows the girl... So who is she?" Emily inquired slowly, much like her thought processes, since she could so clearly not see the answer!

It's not that difficult, and he's been dropping hints like social climbers drop names at cocktail parties. He's not exactly Deep Throat, you know. He's really not being very subtle. A monkey could pick it up. Derek grinned, shooting me a brief look. "Well, Emily, that is actually a very simple answer. The girl is actually C..." Derek began brightly. The minute I heard the C sound from his lips, I launched myself at Derek, throwing my hand over his mouth. I couldn't let him tell Emily that it was I.

Have I ever mentioned that I am bad about coming up with lies on the spot? Because I am. I'm completely horrible at lying, period. I think Derek knows that, too. I made sure my hand was clamped tight over his mouth before I spoke. You would think Derek looked angry, but he didn't. In fact, he looked sort of... amused. "Kate. Her name is Vicky-Kate. Vicky. That's her name," I interrupted confusedly, fumbling a bit with my words.

Emily frowned, understandably confused. I had just realized that I'd used my cousin's name. Derek also raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued at the development. The stupidity of that action suddenly occurred to me. I mean, Derek and Vicky being in love... with anyone... in and of itself was a big stretch. Then again, Emily had never met my cousin, now, had she? Vicky was as close as I could get to the truth. "So is her name Vicky or Kate? I'm confused," Emily said, interjecting yet another annoying question. At that precise moment, Derek's tongue darted out to lick my hand, and I immediately recoiled... just like he wanted.

He took the opportunity to interject his two cents. "Actually, Emily, her name is C-" Derek began yet again, grin overcoming his face. As I had before, I pounced on him, clapping my hand over his mouth. I almost tackled him, really. He moved so that I narrowly missed him. Nonetheless, Derek raised his eyebrows at me suggestively. I felt disgusted, but did not remove my hand. I couldn't let him tell Emily that.

I smiled sweetly, pressing my hand tightly against Derek's mouth. Okay, Casey, time to pull a fast one. Did I mention how much I suck at lying? But this is Emily, so she probably won't notice. It's not like I'm doing anything bad. I'm hiding the fact that Derek is in love with me. That's understandable, isn't it? I just want to protect Emily. "Kate. Kate is her first name. But she... She goes by her middle name. Which is Vicky. _Vicky_, Derek. He went out with her the other day," I lied, albeit half-truthfully. He had gone out with Vicky... about a month ago.

Derek nodded, somewhat impressed by the lie. I hesitantly removed my hand from his mouth, realizing that Emily was looking at me strangely. Derek grinned widely, shooting me a glance. "I made out with her the other day, actually. Before she had a date with her boyfriend. Mmm, I should do that again," Derek replied smoothly, licking his lips. Although addressing Emily, he didn't look away from my face once. I hated the fact that what he said wasn't a lie at all. I felt a shiver run down my spine. Derek's predatory grin widened.

Emily pursed her lips, clearly not trying to be judgmental. She didn't want to ruin it for Derek. Plus, Derek going after a taken girl was not exactly a new phenomenon. "Well, Derek, if you do that again, there won't be any more dates with the boyfriend," Emily pointed out wisely. Her lecture, however, fell on deaf ears. Especially as that was exactly what Derek wanted. My eyes narrowed at the thought. I wasn't going to do that. I'm not letting Derek ruin my relationship with Sam. I'm not falling for him.

Derek smiled wolfishly, raising his eyebrows and picking up the pace a bit. "Very true, Emily. That's actually _exactly_ what I'm going for," Derek said smugly, shooting me a smile. It was the type of smile that said, "you're mine, and you know it." I wasn't going to fall for that crap any time soon. He might kiss well, but he's still an ass. Even if Derek really meant it, I don't think he could ever commit or anything. He'd probably cheat on his girlfriend or dump her or something.

Emily nodded at Derek's sickening summation. Derek would not win. "So, Casey, _why_ is it wrong again?" Emily asked quietly, glancing at Derek. A smirk once again curled on Derek's lips. I felt sick to my stomach. Derek seemed to be asking me the same question with his eyes. I heard him in my head, laughing... saying that I couldn't come up to an answer to the question anyways. But I could, and I would.

I faked a smile, feeling my face hurt from the strain. Why did Emily have to be on Derek's side for this one thing? Why?! There were so many reasons. My loving boyfriend, Sam. The fact that I wasn't remotely interested in him. And, most importantly, the fact that he was my stepbrother. Do I look like Kathryn Merteuil to him? I mean, really... Who does he think I am, that I wouldn't have a problem with this? "Aside from Vicky's boyfriend? And the fact that she's completely **not** interested in you?! Vicky's also my... I mean, _our_ dear cousin," I replied frostily, glaring at Derek all the while.

Emily's eyes widened a little as she looked at Derek in surprise. Derek wasn't ashamed. In order to be ashamed, you actually have to possess shame. He made no apologies for his behavior. He had to know incest was wrong, but... He either didn't admit it was incest or, just, well... didn't care. "Oh, so it's kind of like incest," Emily exclaimed, pursing her lips. Yes, Emily, it is. Actually, it's even worse since it's not really Vicky. It's me.

Derek pouted, and I wanted to punch those pouty lips right off his face. His eyes would look so good black and blue, I thought violently, remembering the spiderweb of finger-shaped bruises around his neck. Why does he always have to talk? Can't he shut up for five minutes and stop trying to convince everyone else that this is okay? It's not okay! "I find that quite offensive. It would be incest if I fell in love with Marti or, I dunno, Nora," Derek remarked intelligently. That's true. It would be incest in the illegal sense that way. It sickened me just hearing him say that. And I was Nora's daughter. How is that any different?

Just because I'm not my mother... that makes it okay? Emily looked from Derek to me, but I wasn't going to give in. "He has a point, though, Casey. I mean, they're not actually related by blood, right?" Emily interjected, fixing me with a look. Marriage is just as good, Emily, I assure you. You try having a stepbrother all over you like Derek... all the time.

Derek nodded coolly. He gave me a knowing look, and I knew what he said next would be in direct relation to me. "Nope. We're only related by marriage. Isn't that right, Casey?" He replied smugly, smirk so apparent on his face. Derek just loves to point that out as if what I think, what our parents would think... what anyone with a _shred_ of common sense would think! He is such a moron!

I was about to make an irritated remark, but I forced myself to swallow it down. I didn't want to give Derek that satisfaction. I glared at him instead, and was surprised when Emily made a comment. Her eyes were darting around, and she looked very nervous. Probably wanting to escape another epic Casey vs. Derek brawl. Not that I blame her. Sometimes all this fighting wears me out too. "Um, you know what... I need to get to school really early. So I'm gonna run. I have to talk to Mr... Uh, Evansenson! Gotta go!" Emily muttered a second before she turned around and started to run to school. Within seconds, she had disappeared completely from my sight.

"Oh... kay. That was strange," Derek said slowly, glancing out in the direction Emily had fled.

For once, I actually agreed with him. That was very strange. Sounded especially like a lie. I'll tell you exactly why it's a lie, too. She's actually Miss Evansenson. "Yeah, you're telling me. There is no Mister Evansenson. He's really a she," I explained half-under my breath. I glanced over at Derek, who looked vaguely confused. I realize that he's stupid, and I was a bit vague... but seriously! Derek ought to know who she is. I mean, he has her for homeroom. And if the stories are true, Derek regularly hits on her every class.

"Wow. Then I think he has a lot of problems... like the reason why he got that sex change surgery," Derek remarked casually, stupid annoying grin lighting up his face. Oh, yeah. He knows exactly who Miss Evansenson is. I've heard that they're on a first-name basis. And I've heard that he... well... Let's just say I sure wouldn't put that past him, given his promiscuous ways. I wouldn't even blame her. If it's really true, then it was entirely instigated by Derek, and she probably wound up more psychologically scarred than him.

Man, I feel sorry for her. George ought to send girls flowers to make up for Derek dumping them. He's left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, let me tell you. Like Sandra, for instance! She started eating meat again after they broke up! It's completely horrible, really... But that was actually the longest relationship Derek's had since I've been here. He has serious commitment problems. I clucked my tongue, shaking my head. He's so stupid. "Not half as many as you, Derek," I replied easily.

Derek glowered at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "I resent that. My only problem is that I fell in love with _you_," He said, letting the words flow out like water. He shot me a meaningful look. How can he say that so easily? I was surprised that he would just readily admit it like that. I glanced around nervously, afraid someone had heard. But no one had. There was no one on the street at all... except Derek and me.

Dangerous things happen when we're left alone. I'd better get to school. My eyes narrowed at him. Yeah, Derek, that is a problem. For the both of us. But he doesn't really love me. He's just deluded himself into believing it's true. He'll realize that sooner or later and go out and screw a few more bimbos. Ugh. He'd love Toronto. There's so much diversity there. Girls of every kind imaginable. Why doesn't he pick one of them? Why does it have to be me? "Exactly. Funny, though... I thought that was _my_ problem," I retorted irritatedly.

Derek smirked. Again. "I knew you felt the same way about me," He drawled cockily. He actually batted his eyelashes at me. Oh, the nerve of Derek! I can't believe the crap he gets away with. It's unbelievable.

We'd both started walking by now. "Where do you get this stuff? You're crazy!" I exclaimed furiously, feeling the blood rush to my face. I was so mad. I couldn't believe I was even seeing straight. He was crazy, too. A complete raving lunatic.

Derek rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah... crazy in love with you!" He retorted, throwing his hands in the air insanely, just as he had when he'd screamed at me at Aunt Fiona's wedding. I can't believe he thinks that.

I mean, I've heard some delusional thinking in my day... from Derek himself, nonetheless. But this has to take the cake. "Not the kind of crazy I meant, Derek. I meant the kind where you need to see a psychiatrist. Because you have some serious problems," I muttered, more annoyed with Derek's act by the second. Then again, I'm the one who goes to see Paul every week, so maybe this is really _my_ problem after all.

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, shooting me a meaningful look. "You know, if anyone has deep-rooted psychological issues here, it'd be you. I mean, you're the one who's in denial," Derek said casually, walking a little ahead of me. At this rate we were never going to get to school on time. I stopped walking to gape at his back for a minute or two.

Then I realized that I was kind of staring at Derek's back... i.e. His butt. Ugh, what is my problem? Oh, right. Derek. Duh. I ran after him. "I am not in denial! I'm telling the truth! I have no feelings for you whatsoever!" I shrieked furiously. This is so frustrating! He's not supposed to be acting like this.

How do I always wind up in these situations? Derek whirled around, looking pissed off. I backed away reflexively. Life with Derek is not a pleasant existence when he's angry. Never. He glared at me with a somewhat questioning look in his eyes. "What, do you think if you keep saying that I'll get the message and stop pursuing you? Or are you purposely trying to hurt me? But no, it's not just that... You still don't believe that I even can love you," Derek accused, anger etched into his features. He was kind of right too.

Not that I was telling him that. Yes, I was saying it in the hopes that he'd get the message and give up like a sane person. I'm not interested, and I have a boyfriend. I've told him that repetitively, and he still doesn't get it. I don't want Derek. This time... This time he doesn't get what he wants. I charged on ahead flippantly, muttering sarcastically over my shoulder, "Gee, I wonder why, Derek. Everyone knows you're such a sincere guy."

Derek puffed up, sticking out his chest proudly, grinning like the cat who'd eaten the canary. "Thank you for noticing, Casey," He replied pompously, a grin stretched widely across his face. He then shot me a sideways glance. "Now, come on... I want to hear you say it," He urged, stopping in his tracks. For some reason, I turned around to stare at him in confusion.

"Say what?" I asked, perplexed. I don't want to be having this conversation. I really don't. Nor do I want to talk to Derek. I hate this... talking. When did he become such a talker? I mean, don't you have to have a brain to talk?

Derek rolled his eyes at me. "That I'm in love with you. Are you slow or what?" He quipped as if I was an idiot. As if I was the idiot. That's like the pot calling the kettle black. I glanced around, feeling paranoid. Please tell me that no one heard that. I mean, who does he think that he is? He can't just go around saying things like that! Especially if they're not true.

Now I know he keeps saying that it is, but it all has to be a huge trick. It just has to be. Doesn't it? I don't know how, but apparently he's so good at lying that he believes his own lies. Which makes him delusional. Delusional or very, very persuasive... uh... maybe it's a little of both.

A sudden chill came over me, and I trudged forward. The bite of autumn was already in the air. Great, just great. Just what I need. I ought to wear more layers as if that's possible. There's nothing like a cold day and Derek to make my life complete.

Completely full of misery, that is.

I sighed, feeling my teeth start to chatter. Damn. Why did I have to wear the miniskirt today? What am I, showing off? Am I... Am I trying to show Sam just what he's missing... or am I trying to entice Derek by parading myself around the school like a piece of meat? No, no. No. That can't be it. No. Bad Casey. That was a clearly delusional thought. Probably got it from Derek. Ew, he's rubbing off on you. Ew.

I knew Derek would say something about it, so I kept my mouth shut, pursing my lips into a thin, white line. Hey, it also helped that I was pretty pissed off already. I forced myself to put one leaden foot in front of the other, bringing down my deadweight legs, keeping my knobbly knees firm. I couldn't break. Not in front of him, of all people. I had a headache already, and it was all Derek's fault... then again, so is everything. Because of him I was up half the night thinking... I couldn't get to sleep. "No," I barely managed to snap out. I felt weak. Maybe I'm coming down with something?

Derek looked at me somewhat curiously, but I just glowered at him. He frowned, roughly grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me to a stop. I'm afraid that if I do stop, I won't be able to start again... And... if I fall, I might not be able to get back up. I'm scared. Especially of Derek. But don't tell him I said that. I'll only inflate his already oversized ego even more. Derek gave me a look, pulling me closer, despite me inching away, pouting at me. What, was that supposed to be cute? 'Cause it wasn't. I shot him a vicious glare. "Come on, Case... If you don't, that's just lying. You know I do," Derek growled frustratedly, advancing on me. I flinched, but he didn't notice. He never notices when he oversteps his boundaries.

Then Derek's eyes took on an eerily predatory gleam. His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, casually putting a hand on my shoulder. "I can't possibly make myself more clear unless I..." He trailed off. His hand slid down my arm slowly. His eyes took on an almost threatening, menacing look. Derek pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well, you wouldn't want _that_ to happen, now would you?" He asked, removing his hand carefully. Let's just say I got the message, vaguely threatening as it was, in its entirety.

I didn't really have a choice in the matter. But saying it meant that I was facing it. I mean, really, really, actually... facing it. And I'm not ready to do that. Because admitting it is like accepting it. It's like a way of saying it's okay... okay when it isn't at ALL. "Okay!" I screeched, throwing my hands in the air, not caring about how senselessly dramatic it was, chest heaving. Then I realized that we were out in public, so I deliberately slowed my breathing and tried to calm down. However, Derek is an automatic rise in blood pressure, so it was a hard battle. Calm, mellow, relaxing... "Okay... okay," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

I steeled myself to say it. To say it and not absorb the words. I have to be firm, even robotic about this. They're just words. I can't let Derek have control over me, and if I freak over this, that's exactly what I'm doing! "Fine. I'll say it," I snapped irritably. Gah. I don't want to do this. I really, really, really don't want to do this. I glanced around, looking to see if anyone could see or hear us. No one could. "You're in love with me," I whispered somewhat weakly. Damn, it wasn't working. "There. You _happy_?" I spat disgustedly, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

I had to turn around and look away. Oh, no, Casey, you are NOT crying, especially not over Derek and some lousy reason. Why am I on the verge of tears, anyways? Is my period coming up or something? Surely, that must be it, right? Not that I find this too much to handle or that... or that I actually feel sorry for Derek because it's just all too heartbreaking to be in love with someone you can't have. I mean... He isn't even in love with me in the first place! That's ridiculous!

I took a deep breath and forced myself to turn back around again. When I did, Derek was, as usual, smirking. "Very," He grinned smugly. He walked over to me and leaned in real close. I reflexively moved backwards as fast as I could, but Derek put his finger underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. "And, babe, that's not going to change anytime soon, so you'd best get used to it... me being in love with you," He replied cockily, smirking widely. Then he winked at me, bringing his hand up to rub my cheek. He grinned widely, leaning in a bit more as if he was seeing how far he could push it. "It's not something I experience often, so consider yourself lucky," He continued even more obnoxiously.

I pulled away as far as I could, feeling the desperate need to put some distance between the two of us- and fast! Derek's eyes narrowed irritably, and his lips formed a stiff line. "You're the first..." He began passionately, tight lips suddenly forming into a scowl. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "...and the last," He finished bitterly. He stared me down, a repressed rage burning in his eyes. I felt an unpleasant shiver run up my spine from _that_ look. "Got it?" I gulped, fearing for my life, and nodded fervently.

Then I hardened a bit, adjusting my posture. A sneer crossed my features, and I crossed my arms over my chest. He has to get this. I've been nothing but straight with him. Except for when I kissed him... but temporary insanity strikes back. Is that why he thinks I have feelings for him, because I've kissed him back? It's not like I've ever really initiating anything! With Derek. "I might be used to it. Doesn't mean I have to accept it as being true," I stated harshly, unwilling to give in.

Derek shook his head, crossing my arms over his chest. His dark, feverish eyes burned into my skin. He was so intent and intensely focused. "Look, Casey, you still don't get it, do you?" He asked somewhat quietly, letting the question hang in the air. I didn't get what he meant, so I didn't dignify his comment with a response. Derek smiled, but it was more like he was angrily baring his teeth at me. "I told you a long time ago..." He murmured, slowly approaching me. He placed his hand softly on my shoulder, uninvited. "In my house, I _always_ get what I want," He said, echoing what he'd told me upon our moving in. His eyes hardened and got steely.

He made sure to stress certain words to get his point across. He was being so... unpleasant. "_You_ live in **my** house... on _my_ turf. Your room is right next to mine," He stated bluntly as if daring me to do something. If this little "conversation" went on much longer, I was going to do something. Something that sounded a lot like punching him in the face. "You can't escape me," Derek sneered, leaning in so close to my face that I could smell his minty-fresh breath on my face. "And," He replied smoothly, shooting me a lascivious look that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "Casey... I want **you**." His eyes took on a determined cast, shining with a dark, evil energy. The smile dropped right off of his face only to be replaced by a sinister smirk. "So I _will_ get what I want. I always do, Case. And there's nothing you can do to stop that. You can only make it easier for yourself," He drawled smugly, approaching me further, licking his lips.

I almost spat in his face, feeling disgusted by this whole conversation. I hated how overly confident he was. He actually thought that I was going to come around. I can't believe he thinks that. I love Sam. Sam, not Derek, Sam. I decided, however, that Derek wasn't worth the trouble. So I just shook my head instead, rolling my eyes. "In your dreams, Derek," I hissed irritably, abruptly turning away from him and walking in the direction of the school.

Unfortunately, Derek followed me. He ran to catch up with me, grabbing my arm, and forcibly making me stop speedwalking. He stared me straight in the eyes, getting too close, invading my personal space like the insidious creature he was. "You have no idea how right you are, my love," Derek proclaimed brilliantly, eyes dancing with a dangerous fire. Then his eyes narrowed slightly, flashing that determined look once again. "But I like to make my dreams a reality," He declared darkly. He leaned in a little towards my face, making me uncomfortable. "More than anything, Casey, I like a challenge. And you're the best challenge I've ever encountered," He murmured in a low, husky voice, further advancing upon me.

As they say, one step forward, two steps back. Which was exactly what I did. I stepped backwards, getting away from him. I couldn't stand him! This time, I stared him down with steely resolve, addressing him in a cold, clipped tone. "Well, prepare yourself for the battle of your life. Because, Derek, I will never fall for you. I will never be even remotely interested in you. So you'd _better_ get over it, Derek... because if you don't, you'll be in for a world of pain," I vowed vehemently, meaning each and every word. Each word was a solemn promise to myself. Each a promise I was determined not to break. He will be in for a world of pain.

Right after I said that, the stale smile dropped right off of Derek's face. I grinned victoriously, thinking I'd won. Of course, I hadn't. Derek always had to have the last word. Always grating on my last nerve. He seemed thoughtful and intent for a moment... In fact, for so long that I thought he wasn't going to say anything at all. I'd half turned around when he spoke. "Didn't I already show you that I could deal with pain?" He exclaimed sneakily, making me whirl around to face him in a rage. Those words hit me just like a punch in the stomach. He knew I'd remember. Derek smirked again, looking so self-important that I wanted to slap that smile right off his face. "Just like you showed me that you'd help me heal," He stated calmly.

That really set me off. He made it sound so... so... so wrong. So not like it really was. He made it sound like I actually gave a damn about him. Like I cared about him in _that_ way. "I did no such thing," I snapped frostily, fixing the full force of my withering death glare on him.

However, it didn't seem to affect him whatsoever. Derek's eyes narrowed coolly. "Really?" He asked sharply. I could tell he was about to lay down his points because he started talking faster and walking towards me. I couldn't move. I just stood there, frozen to the spot and let him get it all out. "Then who was it who ripped the cigarette off my arm? Who wiped away the ashes? Who grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into the bathroom? Who ran my arm under cool water? Who put a band-aid on my wound? Who took care of me, huh, Case?" Derek growled confrontational, suddenly all up in my face, angry and expecting an answer.

I knew the answer, too. I just didn't want to say it. To actually admit it out loud. But I had to. I ripped the cigarette off his arm. I stomped on it with my shoe and put it out. I wiped those red-hot ashes away carefully. I grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him up the stairs, and dragged him into the bathroom. I put his arm under cool water. I put the band-aid on his wound. So... I took care of him. It doesn't mean I love him. It means I maybe care about him. _Maybe_. I am, after all, a nice person.

But Derek wanted an answer, and I couldn't lie to him. "Me. I did it," I volunteered reluctantly, feeling suddenly ashamed that I'd done that.

He rolled up his sleeve, showing me the arm he'd previously injured. Surprisingly the somewhat battered band-aid was still on it. He held his arm out, motioning with his eyes for me to remove the band-aid. I didn't want to do it, but it briefly occurred to me that it would hurt Derek. So I leaned over a little, and I ripped that band-aid off, carelessly tossing it to the ground. However, it was no fun. Derek didn't even make a face. He just stood there, staring at me blankly. My eyes went down to his wound, which didn't look infected. It was a small, angry red cigarette burn... a welt. And somehow, I knew that it'd make a scar. And then I suddenly wondered... what scar would I have left from this ordeal? What scar would Derek leave me with? He smiled bittersweetly. "Exactly my point, Casey. You care about me a lot more than you'd like to admit," He breathed mysteriously, shooting me a dark look.

His tone actually wasn't that cocky, but I was so mad it didn't even matter. I don't really know what I was mad at. Maybe I was feeling guilty. "Not because I love you, you idiot! Because you're my brother," I retorted harshly, rudely. I didn't care if it hurt him. Besides, it's not like he's got feelings anyways.

Derek looked a bit stung, and I relished the feeling that aroused in me. "_Please_, Casey," Derek snorted disbelievingly. "If it was because you actually thought of me like a brother, you wouldn't have touched me with a ten-foot pole. If you actually thought of me as a brother, you wouldn't _ever_ kiss me back. You would've pushed me away immediately," Derek pointed out plainly. Then his eyes narrowed craftily as he grinned wickedly. "But you've never done that, have you, Casey?" Derek prodded, knowing exactly how best to push my buttons.

I was so pissed there aren't even words. I raged; I saw red. "Shut **up**, Derek!" I screamed furiously, striking out at him. I pushed him away from me violently, so frustrated that I wanted to get away from him. I just wanted to walk back home and leave.

Derek's eyes narrowed. His voice took on a frustrated tone. The first true frustration I'd heard in a while coming from his lips. He'd been so damn optimistic even after I'd told him no time and time again. "What, Casey... can't think up another excuse? Just face it, Case... You feel the same way about me that I feel about you. You love me," Derek stated bluntly. He shrugged, and I gaped at him, completely floored. I don't believe it. "Maybe I'm overstepping myself a bit, but I know that you care... and you obviously want me. And in my head, that adds up to love," Derek exclaimed crazily.

He was so cocky and so stupid and so... obviously lacking a brain... that at first I could only stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. It was unfrickingbelievable. Derek had finally snapped. He'd finally lost his mind... And... I'd driven him to it. It just didn't add up. I couldn't believe it! And then the wrath leaked back into me, slowly surging up and forming a red wave. "Let's get a few things straight, then... For one, I have no feelings towards you. For another, you're my **brother**... I have to care because blood is thicker than water. And I most assuredly do not love you or anything about you in any way. Finally, I could not want you any _less_ if I tried," I snarled viciously. "So I've decided that... in my head... your so-called logic adds up to crazy hogwash. Got it, Derek?" I proclaimed mockingly.

Derek rolled his eyes at me. Ugh, I can't believe the nerve of him! "Like I said... You want me. You know it. I know it. So why don't you just get it over with and kiss me?" Derek asked, pouting only slightly and holding out his arms, presumably to catch me after I threw myself at him. Ha. In his dreams. I rolled my eyes at him, wondering when this argument would ever end.

Ugh. The mere thought was disgusting. I am never, ever kissing him again. I would rather die. I glowered at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh, I'll get it over with all right!" I snapped irritably. I forced an obviously fake smile. "And I'll seal it with a slap across the face," I quipped venomously. My fingers were, in fact, just itching to do that very thing.

And why shouldn't I? Good manners, good breeding, a sense of social decency? None of which Derek, who claims he loves me, has ever shown me. If anything, he has it coming. So, naturally, he had absolutely no right to protest. Then again, just because Derek has no right to do something does not mean that he will not do it. In fact, he is actually MORE likely to do it. You tell him to do one thing and that boy does the opposite. Derek frowned at me, pretending to look scandalized. Frankly, all of his acts were wearing more than a little thin. "Well, that's not very nice!" He exclaimed, scolding me.

Again, he has absolutely no right! I glowered at him, crossing my arms over my chest and determinedly ignoring him. Wow, I'm really getting better at that. "When have I ever claimed to be nice? Especially towards a _toad_ like you, of all people?" I sniped over my shoulder, focusing on getting to school. That's it. I should start asking Sam for rides in the mornings. I don't even care if we fight. It's got to be better than going tête-à-tête with Derek all the time, especially now that he thinks he's in looove with me. Derek isn't, of course. He's just an idiot, and he's trying to freak me out by saying he has feelings for me.

Unfortunately for me, it's working. Have I mentioned lately just how very much I hate Derek? Because I do, you know. I loathe him, despise him, wish he'd die, want him to drop off the face of the planet... You name it, I feel it. On top of everything, he's so impossible to ignore. I hate to say it, but he is like an attention magnet. He's just... ugh. He's COMPLETELY impossible, that's what he is! I sped up my pace a little, hoping to get out of our neighborhood faster. Jeez, has the street always been this long?

Annoyingly enough, Derek managed to catch up to me. Even my finest speedwalking was not near fast enough to evade the unstoppable Derek Venturi. Derek smirked at me. "It's that goody-two-shoes reputation you have, Sis. It really misleads a guy," He pointed out somewhat sarcastically. I wanted to take a swing at him just to prove him wrong. I am not always a nice girl. Besides, nice girls finish last... which is how I always finish around Derek. Needless to say, I took that swing at him. He didn't even bat an eyelash or look surprised. He just ducked away, and I wound up hitting air and looking like an idiot. Derek, the smug jerk that he is, snickered at me.

Naturally. He claims to love me yet _still_ mocks me. Yeah, Derek, that'll really bring me around! I swear, I just can't catch a break! Then he put his slimy, disgusting hand (really, who knows where that's been?) on my arm, smiling at me flirtatiously. "But if you think being nasty's a turn-off, you'll find yourself sorely mistaken. Remember, I _dated_ Vicky. I can deal with unpleasant," He replied smugly, beaming like the cat who'd just eaten the canary. He always grinned like that, too. It really bugged me, especially as I was increasingly beginning to feel like I was that very canary. I didn't realize I'd stopped moving until Derek was in front of me. Once again, he was invading my personal space.

Derek caressed my cheek just then, skimming his fingers over my lips, leaning in so close that his cologne wrapped around me like a suffocating scarf. Did he take a bath in it or something? I coughed, but Derek didn't move away. In fact, I wondered how I'd even let him get so close to me. I tried to shake him off, but he held fast like the barnacle he was. "In fact, I like that I'm corrupting you," Derek drawled amusedly. His fingers came down to my chin, and, fancying that he had all the power, Derek turned my head from side to side. "Do continue down the road to darkness, Case... you're just letting me win in other, less satisfying ways," He ordered indulgently, a dark grin curling on his lips. His eyes raked me over blatantly. "Less fun ways too," He muttered suggestively, shooting me a disgusting look.

I felt sick to my stomach. It was a combination of things. That horrid look he gave me... That stupid suggestive inflection in his voice that insinuated things I didn't want to think about... The way he practically undressed me with his eyes. That slick, silky wheedling voice of his. But most of all, it was his touch that really set me off. His filthy, practically diseased touch, and the way he treated me like I was his plaything. I was certainly no whore... least of all _Derek's. _"I will **_never_** let you win, Derek," I vowed in a vehement whisper, whirling around and looking him straight in the eyes to be sure that he knew that I meant business.

Derek took a step back, but other than that he was pretty unaffected by the whole comment. The smile, however, did fall off his face. He merely shrugged and looked oddly serious. I can handle Derek in almost any mood... with two exceptions. One is the lusty/lovesick mood he's been using as of late- it freaks me out, and I completely lose my cool. Another is Derek being serious, partly because he is many things but never serious. "Whatever you say, Case," Derek said coolly, actually acquiescing to my will. His shallow appeasement, something I had always craved, tasted bitter. "Either way, I'll win in the end," He finished cockily, shrugging again and looking as cool as human being can.

There it was, the one-two punch. I glared at him frostily. I was so determined that he wouldn't win that it was eating me up inside. So I shed a little more of my Goody-Two-Shoes reputation and flicked him off. The rebellious gesture felt so good. It was... a rush. "Cram it, Derek," I retorted caustically, feeling a smile rise up on my face. It felt so good to defy him. So what if I had sunk down to his level of vulgarities?

I finally felt like I had actually gotten even with the guy in some little way. Not that Derek did as I asked. When did that boy ever do as I asked? I walked on and Derek strolled alongside me. No matter how fast I walked, he kept up effortlessly. I cursed his long legs and hockey muscles. He smiled at me coquettishly. "Well, actually, I think I'd require _your_ assistance for that," He remarked offhandedly, winking at me. Derek made a vague hand gesture seconds later, eyes glittering with a vile lust. "But, if you would oblige me, I would be most glad to cram it," He continued politely, adopting a fake British accent for that air of sophistication Derek never could quite possess. "I warn you, though... They say that it always hurts the first time," Derek declared authoritatively, grinning wickedly.

I could see every single dirty, perverted, smutty thing he wanted to do to me reflected in his eyes. I grimaced and even winced at his oh-so crude language. Derek basically just asked me to have sex with him. The asshole propositioned me! The bastard practically solicited me... I am not here for his little gratification, thank you very much! I am not here to satisfy his every fantasy. We aren't that kind of family, no matter what Derek wants. He's horny, and I'm right here in his face. I get it. But he has a thousand other bimbos for this sort of thing who would be happy to screw him again. So he's not gonna be cramming anything in me today. I am simply not that kind of girl. I am not _his_ girl. And, God... How'd he know I'm a virgin? I could feel the nervousness fluttering up in my chest, and I fought to push it back down. "You are one **sick**, _twisted_ individual, Derek," I spat fiercely, fully disgusted with my so-called "brother".

Stepbrother... dressing it up in its proper colors doesn't make it look any better. It still sounds the same. Jeez, my idiot stepbrother's in love with me! What the hell is wrong with him? Is there something wrong with me, so that I can't get normal guys? I mean, really! Derek smiled widely, clutching a hand to his chest, once again putting on airs. He grated on my last nerve. "Thank you, Casey. My, it's been so long since you've paid me a compliment," Derek exclaimed graciously. Sarcasm is a cowardly punk's best friend, isn't it? Other than his guitar, of course. Then seconds later his eyes narrowed, and he seemed to almost look through me. "Sam must really be spoiling you," He murmured bitterly. I could've sworn his eyes flashed green. Someone's jealous. I smirked at the thought, hoping that Derek was suffering- as he deserved.

That wicked smile reappeared on Derek's face. His posture stiffened as he circled me like a predator. He was a wolf. "But tell me, dear sister, is he _satisfying_ you?" Derek asked coolly, so smoothly that his voice slid down me like water. He stopped walking around me, standing too close to me, and Derek leaned in a little so that I could feel his warm breath on my face. "Because I've heard things from his ex-girlfriends, and they say that he kisses like a fish. And that he's horrible in the sack," Derek proclaimed loudly and cheerfully. Naturally, I was outraged! Sam is supposed to be Derek's best friend, yet here Derek is, selling him out to... to what, exactly? To attempt to win my affections? Am I supposed to be impressed? 'Cause I'm not. I haven't slept with Sam, so I don't know how he is bed, and to be perfectly honest, I could care less about his sexual prowess, as I don't intend to have sex with him in the first place.

However, Derek's sources were right on one thing. Sam kisses like a fish. It's completely disgusting. He just sits there, puckering and unpuckering his lips, which he never moves, opening and closing his mouth repetitively. Like a fish. Plus, it's all wet and slobbery because Sam always licks his lips and thinks I actually like his drool and that I literally want to swap saliva with him. It's about as despicable as the worst thing Derek's ever done. Only even he wouldn't be that cruel. As much as I really and truly do hate to admit this... Derek is about a million times better in the kissing department. Off the charts good. Of course, physicality is all Derek's good for. That, getting drunk, being cool, hooking people up with drugs, and hockey/fighting (they're sort of the same thing). But he had raised a good point... Was Sam really satisfying me? I love him, but there's something missing... Something's not right with us, and lately we've just been fighting **so** much. Maybe my mistaken, overly amorous step-bother was right in his assumption (that one, not the one about me being secretly in love with him). "How crude and profane! You disgust me," I gasped overdramatically, trying to mask my doubt with shock. "And, by the way, Sam's a **virgin**!" I shouted irritably.

After all, he had no right to insult my boyfriend's honor. Sam, unlike his best friend, is a nice boy. No, he's a nice _man_. Derek is just a silly boy who thinks he's in love with me. Honestly, what does _Derek_, of all people, know about love? And not the kind that people confuse with sex... we all know Derek can make it and create it just fine. But he can't feel it. He'd need a heart for that, and he's certainly lacking one of those. Sam would never lie to me. That's what he told me, and I'm sticking to it. He'd lie to Derek to impress him. Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, really? Is that what _he_ told you?" He questioned almost incredulously, as if he couldn't believe Sam had the nerve to do something so outrageous as tell the truth.

I rolled my eyes at him. Man, what a stupid question! He'd really walked right into that one. "Who else do you think told me? The school nurse?" I muttered sarcastically, not really expecting a remark. Of course, I was currently arguing Derek, so I should've been expecting it. He always loves to get in the last word. And unfortunately, he is gifted with an unusual cleverness in insults.

Derek clucked his tongue disapprovingly, mumbling things under his breath. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of me. I wanted to hear what slander was coming from his mouth, so I pushed myself, near-running, closer to him. Finally, I was close enough to hear. Derek spoke as if I was his audience. It was almost like he knew I was listening. Since Derek is omniscient, he probably did, too. "If _anyone_ would know... Let me tell you, I wouldn't put it past her. I heard some nasty rumors about the two of them..." He said quietly, shooting me a meaningful look. I didn't like that tone of his, insinuating things about Sam and the nurse.

That's just plain wrong. Almost as bad as the idea of Derek loving me, but not quite because that's **incest**. I shoved him away annoyedly, picking up the pace a fair bit. I didn't need to hear these lies anymore! Derek had no basis for all these hideous false accusations of his. No basis except over ten years of friendship and a mountain-sized helping of jealousy. But still, I hated that I was starting to doubt my beloved, even if it was only a little bit. "Please, more like **you** started them!" I scoffed accusingly.

Derek merely shrugged and made no moves to deny it. Derek starts tons of rumors. As the most popular guy in school, he has a ridiculous amount of power. And sometimes, like in Cruel Intentions, Derek likes to wield it in mean ways. "It was a dull week, and they were a little too buddy-buddy," He said as if it was an excuse. How was Sam buddy-buddy with the nurse? It's not like Derek would actually notice. Derek pursed his lips, looking thoughtful as if there really was a logical basis for his accusations. "Besides, he went to the nurse _twelve_ times that week," Derek pointed out, shooting me a look that seemed to challenge me to deny it. Okay, yeah... I can see how that might look suspicious. But Sam's a hockey player, and he's prone to injury and illness, especially during flu season. Derek shrugged again. "It made sense at the time..." He grunted, "... and I heard the most **bizarre** noises coming from the room when I was waiting for him." He shook his head, tsking. Yeah, right. He's stupid if he thinks I'm going to believe him.

It's just all a little too convenient for me. Sam wouldn't have sex with the school nurse. She's practically a teacher and old and... he just wouldn't. I knew which kind of noises he was talking about, too. I shot Derek a dirty look, shifting the books in my arms. "You _would_ be an expert on the noises a woman makes when she's in the moment..." I muttered half under my breath. Derek beamed at me, nodding widely.

He seemed flattered by my off-hand comment. I hadn't meant it as a compliment. I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm so glad you recognize my expertise, Casey," He purred, grabbing my hand. Naturally, I jerked my hand away and out of that manbeast's filthy grip. He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer to me. I swear, it's like he deliberately tries to make me uncomfortable. It's like his goal in life is to make me jump out of my skin. "I could make you make those noises too... _if_ you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask. I would be very excited to tutor you in the sexual arts," Derek offered brightly, rubbing his hands together in enthusiasm. Grrreat. Who would want a guy like this for a sex tutor? Not me.

I rolled my eyes at him, pushing him away from me powerfully. "I'll bet you would," I said, knowing how true the words were. I pulled a disgusted face, only I actually was as disgusted as the face suggested. "And as much as I thank you for the great offer... really, thanks a lot..." I remarked sarcastically. I pretended to think it over for a minute, which was stupid. I shouldn't have even _pretended_ to think it over. "I'm going to have to say no because you're my stepbrother... I have a boyfriend... and I happen to find you completely repulsive, nasty, and probably disease-ridden," I replied nastily, scowling at Derek. I didn't stop to think about how that would affect Derek because, frankly, I didn't care. He deserved it for trying to make me think he was actually in love with me. After all, I'm not the narcissist here. "So I wouldn't want to, but Derek... if I ever want to catch an STD... I promise I'll let you know," I finished viciously, pinching Derek's cheek.

Derek scowled at me, rubbing his cheek and looking annoyed. He took my comments as the personal affront they were. I know the STD comment was rather low, but I know better than anyone how often Derek's been having sex as of late. And the more you do it, the more likely you are to catch... something. He narrowed his eyes at me. "For the record, I practice safe sex. And I'm clean..." He hissed stiffly. Then he smirked again. "But don't knock me until you've tried me. After all, you certainly know I'm not a bad kisser... And just when has Sam _ever_ kissed you like I have?" He replied smoothly, looking at me with dark eyes.

My breath kind of caught in my throat... against my will of course. Despite the corniness of Derek's first proposition, the rest of them had some merit. As much as I was loathe to admit it, he wasn't a bad kisser at all. In fact, he was the sort of guy whose kisses kept you up late at night. And Sam had never, never, never kissed me like that. But passion isn't everything. Sam's a very good boyfriend. I shot Derek a dark glare. "I **don't** want to try, Derek. I'd rather shoot myself than do that," I growled furiously, clenching my fists. I meant it, too. If I had the option of either sleeping with Derek or killing myself, I'd choose the latter.

Hands down. Derek looked mildly offended this time. He scowled at me, shrugging aloofly. "I haven't gotten any complaints," He rejoined crossly. Then his face broke out into a wide, overconfident smile. His pause was deliberate and annoying. "They all seemed rather... content... fulfilled... satisfied... almost in a state of... ecstasy, you could say," He said breathily, fluttering his eyelashes at me. Okay, Derek, I get the message. You're a self-proclaimed sex god, and if I want to, you'll show me the time of my life and give me some humanly impossible number of orgasms. Never mind how he would get everyone out of the house or what I would do about Sam or how he would get out of his pre-scheduled date. And, of course, never mind the utter exhaustion he'd be feeling. I mean, who knows? I haven't had sex with the guy. Maybe it's so boring I'd fall asleep. I mean, it's Derek, so it's bound to be repugnant and wrong and full of STD action.

I shot him a vexed look, sick and tired of his sexual references. Really, thinking about sex and Derek, much less sex with Derek, turns my stomach. I'm just so sick of him right now. "Enough with the crude remarks," I snapped sharply, trying to keep my breakfast from coming back up. I trudged on like a battle-weary soldier. For the first time ever, I was sick and tired of fighting with Derek. I just didn't have the kind of energy required for it anymore. Not that I'm giving up or anything. That would be stupid. And I am not that kind of girl. Not the kind to quit and not the kind to let Derek win. I know he always gets what he wants, but I don't want him. And in the civilized world, what the lady says goes.

In the animal world, Derek would just carry me over his soldier, kicking and screaming, anyways. And, well... Yeah. Not pretty, that animal desire. Derek pursed his lips, then his eyes lit up as if he was remembering something. "Oh, right. That reminds me... we were discussing whether Sam's cherry had been popped or not," He recalled oddly excitedly. I groaned loudly, and Derek's beaming smile widened even more.

"I don't want to hear this," I said, shaking my head, and really, I didn't. I'd already heard it before, remember? I was about two steps away from reverting to childhood, putting my hands in my ears and singing loudly and off-key to drown him out. Derek never would've allowed this, of course, mainly because he's an annoying jerk, but also because he's damn pushy, that one.

Derek placed his hands in his pockets, swaggering forward confidently. He flashed me a smirk that would've easily been at place in his favorite movie. "And I insinuated that he'd been had by the school nurse, and you proclaimed that he was a _virgin_," He recapped with a chuckle, sounding very amused. He rolled his eyes at me irreverently. "Of course... Optimistic and naïve as ever," He retorted harshly. I am not naïve. I honestly don't know what he's talking about. Derek snorted, looking disgusted. "Then again, if I'd lost it to the school nurse, I think I would be quite ashamed. I would never mention it either. Such low standards one would have to do such a horrible, disgusting thing... by which I mean the nurse, not the actual deed. Ew. I'm getting sick just thinking about her naked," He muttered with a grimace, trying very hard to keep a straight face. He did, however, look a bit green.

That's understandable, though, as the school nurse is far from a beauty. For starters, she's like 76 with the worst peroxide blonde, fried hair I've ever seen. Not to mention that she's grossly obese and has to way at least 250, maybe 300-something... and that's in pounds. She's really gross too... all wrinkly and fat. Oh, yeah, and she doesn't brush her teeth. Seriously, they're all rotten and gross... It's a wonder she hasn't gotten dentures yet. Emily and I speculate that she's a meth addict. Makes sense with those sores and how her hair's always greasy and sort of balding... Ew-fest. Imagining my sweet, innocent Sam with that ugly, liver-spotted, wrinkled, flesh-flashing (seriously, she hits on the students and wears outfits that are waaaay too revealing for any woman, much less one of her weight and age. I'm talking thongs... when she wears underwear. Eew) nurse made me wanna throw up. Derek had the images planted firmly in my head, though. Naked, writing bodies... Ew! Holding my head and trying my hardest to block out the gross pornographic images, I shouted at my very own evil stepbrother, "Derek, for the love of God, please shut up!"

Derek, like me (there's a phrase I never thought I'd say), pretended to think it over for a moment. Not that Derek ever thinks, so of course I knew he wasn't actually considering it. Then, predictably, Derek shook his head slowly. "No, Case, I don't think I will. I'm having too much fun," He replied with that stupid grin again.

"You're sick!" I shouted virulently, suddenly noticing that we were actually at the school. Ironic choice of words, really, if you think about it. Aha! I saw my opening, and I went for it. I flew at the door, throwing it open with fierce abandon and entering quicker than a winter breeze. I thought I was leaving Derek behind and headed straight towards my locker. I somehow managed to do this without running into anybody, which was a miracle in and of itself. If I just got to class, I wouldn't have to see Derek until English. And French. And Science. Damn, how'd he get in so many classes with me? I opened my locker, the locker that Derek had obtained for me, and I started shoving things inside and pulling the things out that I needed.

I underestimated Derek again. I forgot that he's practically a hockey god and has the muscles and speed to match. Sam talks a lot, and I've been to a few of their practices illegally, so I can say with some certainty that Derek is the fastest member on that team. Which shouldn't be surprising, considering the fast way he lives. So, naturally, Derek appeared at my side just as I thought I was rid of him. He spoke, and I jumped about a half a foot in the air and almost fell over. "Yes, and if I was Sammy, I'd go see the nurse... have her **fix** my little problem... scratch my itch," He whispered in a low, seductive voice. I felt his hot breath against my neck and felt shivers run up my side. Ew. He wants me to scratch his itch. He can scratch his own itch until it's raw for all I care! "But I'm not Sammy," He snapped coolly, pulling away to my relief. I exhaled, catching my breath and once again attempting to finish putting away my books. I could hear the smirk in his voice before I even turned around. "I'm perfectly satisfied by banging nameless girls against _your_ bedroom wall," He declared smugly, sounding very satisfied.

He's getting so much sex that I really don't suppose he could be anything else. I mean, like Derek's going to have sex with ugly girls who don't get him off. Psh. I whirled around irritably, throwing my bag in my locker and slamming it shut violently. The diplomacy was wearing thin. "Yeah, could you stop that?" I asked shortly.

Derek looked a bit taken aback and slightly surprised by my outburst at first. Then an all-too familiar, enterprising smile popped up on his face. He was so insufferably cocky. It will be a cold day in Hell before I take him up on one of his lousy offers. "I will... if you stop rejecting me and dump Sam," He promised sincerely, though I was disinclined to believe him and disinclined to do as he said anyways. I'm not dumping Sam, least of all so Derek will stop banging oth... Holy crap. Derek just said that he would stop banging girls against my wall if I dump Sam and stop rejecting Derek. Which basically means that if I dump Sam and jump Derek, Derek won't have sex with other girls. Which means that if I get with Derek, he's just promised that he will be faithful. Not that I believe this sham of a promise anyways, but coming from a sex maniac like Derek, that's a pretty big step of commitment.

Only he never said he'd forsake all others. I mean, that wasn't a wedding vow or anything. He just said he'd stop having sex with people against my wall. See, nothing to worry about. He's not really serious about me at all. I was getting sick of telling him over and over again, though. Maybe that's why he's persistent. He thinks that I'll get so sick of saying no that I'll give and say yes or just say yes by accident. Well, newsflash, no one's as stubborn as I am. I can be persistent too. "No. As I've already told you numerous times, I _love_ him... I'll just have to deal with your sexual appetite," I resolved firmly, wincing as I realized how that sounded. After all, since he can't have me, a great deal of Derek's sexual appetite revolves around yours truly. It makes it sound like I actually, you know, wanna do the deed with the guy. Ew.

Derek smirked, taking my innocent phrase just as I'd feared he'd take it. "I thought you would say something like that.. Ahem," He replied, sounding incredibly self-satisfied. I, on the other hand, was incredibly disgusted. I rolled my eyes at him and attempted to push past him. Naturally, Derek blocked my way. He leaned in closer to practically whisper the message to me. "Anyways, as I was saying..." He continued self-importantly with an authority he didn't have, "All guys who are lousy in the sack say they're virgins. It buys them brownie points if the sex is horrible, or if there's some mistake in it... like they go at it like a jackrabbit... or, what else... if the girl has to fake it... or if they can't get it up." I hate to admit it, but that actually does sound logical. I frowned, remembering episodes of Sex and the City. Wow, those girls had some real sex nightmares with guys. Ew. Derek must've seen the appalled look on my face, because he continued victoriously. "Funny, I've heard all three to be true of Sam. But what do you think, Case?" He replied craftily, turning it on me.

First of all, I don't know! And Derek knows that! Secondly, ew. What girls tell Derek these things? And more importantly, why does he ask? And thirdly, even if I don't actually know from experience, as if I'm gonna just let him get away with saying my boyfriend's lousy in the sack! It's not like he knows! He hasn't had sex with Sam. Not that I would put it past him, since Derek would screw anything with a hole to plug it into. Wait. Ew. No, no, no... Sam and Derek would never... Derek isn't that kind of guy. I mean, he's wholly heterosexual. That much is obvious. Even though he could be overcompensating for something... like latent homosexuality or a sm... No, he's not small, 'cause if he was, I'd know. Everyone would. Hey, wait, did you just sort of suggest that your own boyfriend might not be as straight as you think? NO! No, no, I did not! Sam is straight as an arrow. Of course he is. Okay, breathe, Case. Derek calls me Case... Ew, Derek. Right. "I wouldn't know... but I'd like to know who all these girls are who've told you this. I don't want you defaming my boyfriend's well-earned good name," I proclaimed, full of self-righteous pride.

I was standing by my man, after all. Derek snorted loudly. "Good name. **Ha**. He just plays it innocent. If you knew Sam like I do, you would never have gone out with him in the first place," Derek said bitterly, laughing hollowly. I rolled my eyes. He's so jealous. Seriously, could he be any more green? I know he looks good in the color, but seriously, if the guy turns any more green he's gonna be The Hulk or the Jolly Green Giant. Which would be bad because then he'd rip Sam to shreds and forcibly have his way with me. His eyes were dark and charged, and they seemed almost to look right through me. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, forehead wrinkling, and the smile fell right off his face and turned into a frown. "Just remember that I warned you, okay?" He warned in a foreboding tone that majorly creeped me out.

Okay, I promised silently, beginning to wonder if, in fact, all of Derek's ghost stories did amount to something. Was there something important about Sam that I didn't know? However, I felt guilty for thinking such thoughts, so I quickly brushed them away. I thought for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to make him go away. Then the idea occurred to me, and a sudden grin crossed my face. Use Derek's "supposed" love against him. It's a low-down, dirty thing to do, but Derek would appreciate that, wouldn't he? Plus, he's done so many low, despicable things, he's not one to talk. He's the King of Manipulating and Using People. And besides, desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, it's not like Derek has a heart to break. It's the price for his lies, and if he gets hurt, so what! "If you love me as much as you say you do, Derek, you'll shut your mouth for once and let me get to class," I hissed almost threateningly.

A strange look passed over Derek's features, and he immediately shut his mouth. He looked down at the floor respectably, tilting his head in a sort of bow. Then he stepped aside to allow me passage, looking me straight in the eyes. My safe passage, of course, was not without parting words. I was surprised at the flash of pain I saw in those sable depths, but Derek held himself with pride, chin up, nose in the air. It was if he knew I was beating him down into submission and using his own feelings against him, but he let me do it. I felt lousy, but I didn't show it. Maybe he did actually care, after all. "Fine," He said with an almost icy politeness, kowtowing to my will. He pantomimed zipping his lips shut. "My lips are sealed," He murmured in a sort of a whisper, like he was locking his shameful secret away. An ironic, almost bitter grin affixed itself to his lips as he waved at me. "Love you too, Case! We always do have the most wonderful chats," He drawled charmingly in a faux-posh tone, though his voice was literally dripping with sarcasm.

I flinched at his repeated declaration of affections. Derek noticed and stiffened just a bit more. If we didn't hurry things up here, I was going to be late for class. I just can't get a tardy! But I couldn't just leave him there, looking so sad. I had to say something after the cruel trick I'd just pulled, toying with his emotions like that. I'm not Derek's plaything, but he isn't mine either. After all, I am no better than Derek if I take pleasure from his suffering. I've already sunken to his level enough... That's exactly what he wants. If I'm not careful, the next thing I know, I'll be having sex with him too, just to play some sick, twisted game. Derek loves games; he thrives on games. And I am not Derek. I hate games, and I suck at playing them. I exhaled softly, inhaling a shaky breath. The words somehow managed to get past my lips, although they came out in a near croak. "Goodbye, Derek," I murmured weakly, throwing him a weak half-wave before I passed him. I sped up my footwork so I'd get past him quicker.

I didn't look over my shoulder, and I wasn't nostalgic or anything stupid like that. Not like in the movies, where the heroine says goodbye but doesn't mean it and then the hero goes after her, and they kiss, and it's all one lovely happy ending. Derek is no hero in any way shape or form. Sam is the prince of this fairytale. Derek and Edwin are my ugly stepbrothers, and my mother and George, though well intentioned, are well... the parents (only one step) of the story. It's not so much that they're evil, just that they're... Clueless and Careless. Guess which is which? They just... leave me with a lot of work and allow Derek to torment me.

So, in essence, that's about as much parenting as poor Cindy gets, only I have to raise my little sister and try and bring up Marti to be a little girl, not a little Derek. And sometimes Caseyrella gets a bit tired from doing all the cleaning, organizing, child-rearing, complaining, half the cooking, and managing to stay on top of her schoolwork.

All of a sudden, I felt a hand, Derek's hand, of course, come down on my shoulder. Derek whirled me around to face him, and suddenly he was all up in my face, closer than even before. The hallway was completely empty, with not even a janitor in sight. Which meant A. I was alone with Derek, so of course he'd put a move on me, and B. It was almost time for class to start. Where did all the lonely people go? In class, with their lonely friends, of course, leaving Derek and me all alone together in the hallway. He was so close I got caught up in the heady scent of his cologne and almost choked on its thick fragrance. As I'd predicted, Derek came closer, and I backed up towards the lockers as fast as I could. Derek, however, chased after me. He chased after me until my back hit a locker, _his_ locker, in fact.

And then his body was pressing against mine uncomfortably and his lips crashed into mine. The second his lips touched mine; every thought flew out of my head except that of trying to escape. And I tried so hard, oh, believe me, I tried to break free! But Derek had me pinned up firmly against the locker and refused to let me go free until he had gotten what he wanted from me... like he always does. Yes, Derek was a good kisser, but that didn't mean I was enjoying it. We were in school, and this wasn't the place for any strange show of creepy stepsibling PDA. I fought him with everything I had in me, but to no avail.

Derek kissed me until there wasn't an ounce of breath left in his lungs, and then he tore his moist, swollen lips away from mine. His lips were smeared with my lipstick (which was of a rather obvious, noticeable shade), and for a second, that thought satisfied me as a punishment. But then I began to wonder if anyone would notice. Sam definitely knew my shade of lip gloss... but he was a boy, and guys didn't remember names of make-up brands (unless they're gay). They did, however, remember colors. But, come on, seriously, I bet tons of girls at our school wear that particular color. I can't be the only one. Plus, it's Derek. The guy could be wearing any shade, and no one would connect it to me.

I suddenly realized why he had backed me up against his locker. It wasn't just so I couldn't escape, although that was most of it. Derek's locker also happened to be out of the range of sight of any classroom window. We could be having sex (not that I ever would with Derek!), and as long as no one was in the hallway, no one could see it. The thought raised the hair on the back of my neck. It was a chilling reminder of how much power Derek, the guy, had. Not over me, but over women in general. He was like a sorcerer, and women became utterly powerless under his spell. I shuddered at the thought of Derek having any control over me. Not likely unless he exerted physical force as he just had. Disturbing.

Derek smirked at me, not even remotely resembling a clown. I hated him so much. I pushed him away, but he took some coaxing. Finally, he winked at me, and I felt my stomach protest. I can't believe Derek just... Having stolen the kiss he wanted, Derek backed away and strutted merrily across the hall, a bounce in his step. Hand poised on the door, Derek turned to me, flashing me a white, winning smile. "See you in French class, Case," He proclaimed dramatically, saluting me. I rolled my eyes at the gesture. He just kissed me again and now I have to sit next to him in French class all day... knowing that he loves me, he actually, really does... Damn, and I thought it was awkward after I mistakenly made out with him and he was banging girls against my wall every night... Then Derek smiled, a real, genuine smile this time. It even met his eyes, and that's when I got it. Derek really did... love me, or feel as close as a creature like him could come to love towards me, anyways. "Au revoir, mon amour," He declared boldly with that absolutely dreadful French accent of his, blowing me a kiss.

Then he threw the door open dramatically and walked inside his classroom jauntily, leaving me leaning against his locker, chest heaving. I was catching my breath and still recovering from that hell of a kiss he'd just stolen from me. Damn, I thought, touching my lips, how I wanted that kiss back! I don't mean that in the sense that it was so absolutely stunning that I wanted him to do it again. I just mean it in the sense that he had stolen it after all, and like any other stolen thing, I wanted it returned. My knees felt weak, so I leaned heavier against the locker. My back slid down it a little as my knees nearly gave out on me. I wiped off the lipstick vehemently, even painfully, determined not to be Derek's twin in any way, shape, or form, even if it was only through make-up. And I was still there, wondering what the hell had just transpired, when the bell rung loudly.

Crap!

Derek had just made me late to class. Just like he wanted.

And it really pisses me off, because after all this, it still seems like Derek's doing what he wants to do, what he wants to do best. He's corrupting me, the bastard. He really and truly is. But even if he does corrupt me, even if I sink as low as a girl can thanks to his help, I will never, ever, ever love him.

And that's a promise.

Because as long as my heart's still beating, and as long as I still have an ounce of pride and self-worth left it me...

I will never, ever sink _that_ low.

And, of course, as I walked by Derek's classroom to get to my own (after scrambling to my feet and racing to collect my books in a hurry), I noticed he was sitting there in the front row, cheap pink lipstick painting him like a whore, smirking. And as I flew by, I could've sworn he was looking at me, and that that stupid sardonic smirk of his actually widened when he laid eyes on me.

Oh, he wanted me all right. Which was wholly wrong, as you're not supposed to want your sister. Derek and I are polar opposites. We're supposed to fight and scheme and hate each other... not make-out in deserted hallways.

Derek is **not** supposed to want Casey, and he is _definitely_ not supposed to love her.

Of all the girls in the world to want... why in Hell's bells did it have to be _me_?

– Loren ;

Reviews are highly appreciated. They help make up for the lack of sleep. Now help reward a poor girl who just typed seven and a half pages in two days. She's tired, you know, but she stayed up because she thought you, her loyal readers deserved it.

Lol, see, I can do the guilt thing too. ;) But, really, thanks to all of you many reviewers/fans for sticking with me through these long months and increasingly longer gaps between updating. I still honestly don't get why this story's so damn popular. It just really blows my mind. Is there some strangely miraculous word of mouth about it or something?... Oh well. Anyways, again, thanks for all the great reviews, guys. I don't know where I'd be without you.

And 'cause you had to wait so long for this chapter, here's a little spoiler for the next chapter (normally I'd give you a clip, but I haven't written any of it yet): We're skipping ahead to December. And guess what, it just happens to be Casey's birthday. What's Derek going to get her? No, seriously, give me your guesses and suggestions. I had an idea, but I might've forgotten. ;)

As I said, I love reviews! Tell me what you think.


	15. Indecisive

Okay, so I wrote about five pages tonight, yay! And I can't believe I finished this chapter in one night, but I did. Yay! Anyways, I'm not exactly crazy about the ending, but it'll do. Oh, and there are spoilers in this chapter for a lot of the second season episodes... So forgive me if I get stuff wrong, because I have not actually seen Kendra in an episode. But yeah, so that pretty much sets this completely after second season. Only Casey and Sam got back together. And yeah. They obviously had their sixth month anniversary, so let's just assume time on the show passes much slower than it appears.

So here it is, just when I thought I wasn't going to finish this chap, but I did it. Yay! Hope you enjoy Casey's birthday. The next chapter will be set in January. Christmas will have already passed, and so it'll be pretty much covering New Year's.

Also, thanks for all the suggestions about what to get Casey! I somehow managed to figure it out on my own though... Strangely enough. Anyways, this chapter sort of showcases the gentler side of Derek, which I don't like to show... But it's still there. There's just a lot of bitterness and such things, but Derek really is a very controlled person. I'm kind of really looking forward to the next chapter. You finally get to find out what's going down with Sam and there's some nice, uh, Derek/Casey moments. ;) And I was going to say something else, but I don't remember. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

"I assure you my intentions are true."

* * *

Today is Casey's birthday. Her sixteenth birthday, in fact. I could think of a few ways to make this birthday really, really sweet... but the little princess wouldn't like that. But it's her birthday. Today is all about Casey and making her happy. Not that every day isn't about Casey, but still... If I play my cards right, today is a big chance to score points with Casey.

For instance, Lizzie wanted to make Casey breakfast in bed. Naturally, I refused because Lizzie can't cook to save her life. Plus we have school today, so we really don't have time for such festivities. Everyone knows how much Casey likes school. Now, I personally don't see the attraction (something I'm sure our little Ice Princess has also said of me), but I did my homework last night anyways, in her honor. It's near impossible for me to ever get in her good graces, but I've really been trying. I do like a challenge, after all.

Casey's a tough egg to crack, though. I don't even think challenge covers it. Anyways, since I thwarted Lizzie's pitiful attempts at cooking, I started cooking because Nora had to work early. Honestly, you'd think that Nora would want to do something for her eldest daughter's birthday! I know how unbelievable it is that I can cook, but I can. Seriously, do you think I made macaroni and cheese all the time? That might be good for the kids, but I can't eat that all the time. It's too damn starchy, and after the third day, unless you're in the mood for it, it starts to taste like cardboard. Only the best for me. I just... don't... cook, y'know? I mean, if they know I can cook, they'll make me do it more often, and that would actually require effort. But today is a special occasion... Because, after all, it is my _sister's_ sixteenth birthday, and she does deserve all the best. Yeah, you would not believe the look Lizzie gave me when I said that... or something to that effect. Edwin and Lizzie kept giving me these strange looks too, all morning. They were staring at me like they'd never seen me before.

I mean, I know I look good this morning, but I wish they'd all stop gawping. Casey was sure to be a bit mad that we'd (okay, I did it) set her alarm back a little, but what do we really need to go to Homeroom for anyways? That reminds me of that one morning when I set her alarm back to like, ten, and then took all of her shirts out of the drawer. I also hid like all of her bras, but you just didn't hear her bitching about that. It did make me want to maul her, though, right when I saw her. Only that stupid redheaded kid, Tipper or Tinner or Twippy was there... And the stupid new principal. And a bunch of other losers, but they're not important. And so, of course, when I saw her at school, she was wearing my favorite shirt. She even smelled like me, too. And you know, I'm not afraid to admit it... Damn, that was just so hot seeing her there in my clothes, smelling like me. It made me feel all possessive, almost like I owned her. Casey would say I've gone back to the Stone Age with thinking like that, but I don't mean it in a bad way. It was just... nice.

Plus, it made for a really good prank. She was so embarrassed, too! Ah, good times... But not today. Today I have to be good and respectable for Casey. I've got to show her I actually care. Ew, that sounds so cheesy! But I guess I mean it. If I want her to really believe me and ditch that loser of a best friend of mine (who doesn't love her half as much and hasn't even told her that in the first place- I asked!)... I've got to be nice. And I am not a nice guy, never have been, never will be... But Casey changes all that.

I hate people like her, too. Goody-two-shoes who think they can change the world. She's like, um, that one chick with the stupid name in Dirty Dancing. Peace Corps my ass. Seriously, who lets a girl that tiny in the Peace Corps? In case you're wondering how I know that... Well, let's just say Casey and Nora have a lot of Man-Candy Marathons. Although that disgusts me, it's true. Hugh Grant, Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Jude Law, Ben Affleck (now there's a laundry list of crappy movies), etcetera. Every cheesy chick-flick you can imagine they've watched. Seriously, they even dragged me and Dad in a few times, poor little Edwin too. They were all, "Gee, why don't you act like that, George?" and "See, Derek, you know nothing about getting the girl!"

Casey says I know nothing about getting the girl. That is a lie. I mean, hello, they don't call me Triple-D for nothing. I know _everything_ about getting the girl. Hell, I practically invented it. It's a science that I've perfected. I make it all look cool and easy, and for the most part it is. But she doesn't mean getting a girl on a physical level, although I'm a pro at that. She means the deep, lovey-dovey stuff. What she doesn't know is that I can do that. I can do that very well. I know how to sweep a girl off her feet. But back to what Casey defines as "getting the girl". See, the way I see it, every definition of that involves breaking down like a chick. And crying and moping and being all whiny and emo about it. And damn it, I am Derek Venturi, and I don't do crying!

Getting the girl also seems to inevitably involve sacrificing your dignity and acting like a woman. And no, you know, I don't know how to get the girl by acting like a woman. I do it acting like a man, the man I am. I don't whine or namby-pamby around. I get things done. It's what I do. I'm Derek Venturi. I just snap my fingers, and half the time, it happens! So there I was, cooking... Let's see... I made Casey crêpes with maple syrup and cherries because those are her favorite and then eggs the way she likes them (sunny side up, to match her ever-so sunny disposition). And I made her French toast too, just for good measure... Light on the butter, heavy on the powdered sugar and cinnamon, because Casey has a sweet tooth but hates fat. And then to placate the sibs, I made bacon for the rest of us.

And that's when they stopped giving me funny looks. Still munching on the bacon myself, I directed that Lizzie go upstairs and wake Casey. I instructed her to tell her to take her time to look her best, since it was her birthday after all, and "George" had called in and excused her. I said she had a dentist appointment and that Derek conveniently had to drive her there as well. I'm good, aren't I? That also sets the stage for part two of my plan, but shh... Don't tell. So Lizzie woke Casey up, and the girl was predictably down in two seconds, hair mussed and still in her pajamas. I grinned at her, and Casey glowered and started yelling at me.

You know, they say the way you spend your birthday sets the tone for the rest of your year. I could've predicted this, really. Now's where I'm going to blow her away. I smiled at her widely, wiggling my fingers at her. "Happy birthday, Case," I proclaimed cheerfully. She continued yelling, so I took it upon myself to talk over her. "I called you in late. You had a dentist appointment," I continued, arranging the food on the plate before I realized how girly it was. She did not look grateful, but at least she shut up. I reached across the counter and made her sit down, setting the plates down in front of her. I even got her a glass of milk, and for once, did not drink out of the carton. See, look at how she's civilizing me and doesn't even know it! "You're welcome," I quipped, waiting for her to notice the food.

When Casey finally did, she was more than surprised. She blinked at me, and I motioned for her to start eating. She did, albeit grudgingly. I went over to the sink to wash my hands and, yes, surprise, surprise, actually clean up! When I came back, Casey was eating with a bit more gusto, and she looked happy. I felt good, as... strange as that is. So I turned around and started watching her. She didn't notice. Anyways, so Casey was wearing this really low-cut little tank-top thing and sweats... which is odd now that I think about it, since she usually wears those pink pajamas... Come to think of it, how easy would those pajamas be to undo? I bet it would take me like two seconds. She always wears the first two buttons unbuttoned anyways, and who says I even have to unbutton the shirt?

So I was just staring off into space thinking all this, and just about to begin a very lovely daydream when Casey looks up at me and says angrily, "Why the **freak** are you staring at me, Derek?" Honestly, I would've thought that was obvious. I love her, duh. I don't need an excuse. Although, I totally wouldn't mind if she wore _that_ to school. Only, if Casey did, then I'd have to beat all the guys off of her with a stick, because you can bet that Sam-antha wouldn't. I'd do it gladly, too. Heaven knows I have more than enough practice at clubbing people down with a hockey stick. Damn, that's fun. It makes me sound sick and twisted, but it's fun. F-U... N.

I am an excellent liar, but I was in a rather vulnerable place. After all, I was looking desperately to please her. I'd just made her breakfast, and I'd made this huge plan of how to properly celebrate her birthday... And no, unfortunately, it does not involve sexual favors. Somehow, I don't think she'd agree to that, no matter how much I'd like that. So I was a bit distracted, so I wound up saying the first thing that came to mind. "Because I love you," I blurted, immediately regretting it. I mean, okay, it's one thing if I say it when I'm pissed at her, but she's already turned me down once. The more I say it, the deeper the hole gets. Casey choked on her crêpe when I said that.

I don't get why, either. It's not like it's some huge surprise, yet every time I say that she acts like it's this huge revelation. Her eyes went all wide and blue and... Sometimes I want to kiss her so bad I can hardly stand it. But today is her birthday, and I have to respect her wishes for once. Any other day I can get everything I want, but not today. Today it's all about what _Casey_ wants. I owe that much to her, at least. So maybe one day I won't get what I want when I want it. Big deal. I have to be a gentleman today. Then Casey looked down sort of embarrassedly, and I was even more embarrassed. So then I started to leave to... I dunno... get my school I.D. or mess with my hair a little or call someone with the plans for Casey's birthday.

But Casey stopped me in my tracks by asking something. "Who made this breakfast? Mom?" Casey questioned a bit loudly. I turned around to look at her and slowly shook my head. I had a bad feeling about how it was going to end, but I figured I might as well tell her the truth. So I sighed and said it.

I put my hands in my pockets. Well, here goes nothing. "Me. I made it. Don't worry, I didn't poison it or anything... It's all your favorites, right?" I answered slowly, feeling vaguely apprehensive about telling her. At first, Casey looked surprised, then disgusted. And then she ran over to the sink and spit out the food in her mouth. She'd finished slightly over half of the breakfast, and if she could, I could tell she would throw it all up. She looked grossed out, and then she emptied the plate over the sink and pushed the rest of it down the drain. And I don't know why, but I felt real lousy all of a sudden.

Casey wiped her mouth digustedly yet delicately. "I can't believe I just ate that," She muttered incredulously. Okay, fine, she wants it to be that way, then fine. I just wanted to do something nice to her, and... She has to make it all difficult. Fine then. She wants it that way, I'll bite. I can play the game just as well as her. Let's see how she likes it. No more Birthday Princess treatment for her. I go out of my way to let her sleep in, to excuse her from school, to resist doing anything I want, to even make her BREAKFAST... And she just snubs me like that. Fine. I turned around again, feeling bad and guilty and just... rotten, and I stomped up the stairs.

But then it occurred to me that she had more than reason enough not to trust me. Although, really... If I wanted to prank her, why on Earth would I have wasted my time cooking her breakfast when I could've just slipped something in her food?! So I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. Managing my anger... now there's another thing I just don't do. And I frickin' hate that about Casey. I hate that she makes me do things that I would never, ever, ever do under other circumstances. I hate it that I'm changing for her. I don't like it when girls try and domesticate me... I'm wild; I'm a savage! I'm a man, and I don't like people telling me what to do!

That's part of the reason why I dumped Kendra. Only partly, though. Most of it was because I didn't like who I was becoming around her... I was acting like some chump, some complete joke. I was whipped, and it was, like... completely pathetic. Plus, GOD, she was so damn annoying after like... The first month. Or however long we were together. I forget. She wasn't hot, either. And she called me Derry and kissed me in public, and it was just all this big debaucle. She wasn't really worth all the crap I went through. Frankly, I have no idea why I stayed with her that long. I mean, Derry? What, am I a fruit?

No, see, that's Sam's gig. I hated it when she called me that. Not to mention that Derry rhymes with fairy. And dairy... milk products? About the PDA thing, though... Now, that, I have my reasons. One is that it's kind of bad for my image as this totally approachable guy. For the same reason, it makes me a marked man... Because the girl is effectively marking me as her properly when she plants her lips on mine. And I'd rather a kiss just be a kiss. Not to mention that then I couldn't date whoever I wanted, which would suck ass. I like to keep my affairs private. Besides, you can't go as far at school. Well, I mean, you can, but then you either have to use a bathroom or the janitor's closet, neither of which I recommend. Or that recycling room, I guess, but people go in and out of there all the time. Plus I always hate couples like that. And I figure why be sickening and disgusting in school when I can do it in the comfort of my own home? I wouldn't really mind the whole PDA thing if I liked the girl. Like Casey, for instance. Hell, I'm lucky to get any display of affection from her!

Ugh. Kendra. What the hell was I thinking again? She turned into a sobbing freak when I dumped her, you know. It was a disaster and then all these people gave me dirty looks. I realize we were in a public place, but it wasn't like she was a one-night stand or anything. She never put out, not even once. And, unbelievably enough, I never cheated on her... well, physically anyways. Unless all those cold showers count. Yet she always accused me of cheating. Always. She was even whacky enough to think Casey and I were shacking up, which is not wholly unreasonable unless you've been in our house for more than five seconds and see how much we literally hate each other (back then, anyways, when I meant it a hell of a lot more). Plus, honestly, like Casey would go for that? That was the last straw. I mean, as if the kissing like a dog wasn't bad enough (seriously, she was like a vacuum cleaner or something. Did Sammy teach her?)... So I dumped her ass, and I don't regret it.

I think the only reason I even liked her in the first place was because she didn't like me in the beginning... She reminded me a lot of Casey in the beginning, come to think of it, what with the way she fought with me and her drama-queen tendencies. I mean, their names even start with the same letter. But in the same way, she was way different from Casey. Not just looks-wise. I should've known then that I liked Casey. It was kind of staring me right in the face, you know? I'd even been dating/making-out girls like her since she'd moved in- Vicky (who looked just like her), Sandra (who shared her beliefs on animals, children, feminism, and tofu... and happened to be a friend), Amy (who read The English Patient!), Emily (her best friend), and Kendra (for reasons mentioned far above)... just to name a few. I mean, going after cheap imitations of what I really want is just pathetic.

It's human nature, too, to go after what you don't have. And I did, and after I got it... It didn't look quite so nice. I'd say that about Casey, but I already kissed her, and I unbelievably still want something to do with her. I don't get love. I guess it's just funny like that. This is all so new to me, y'know?

Besides, in case you haven't noticed, I dig brunettes. Vicky, Sandra, Amy, Debbie, that one girl... Even Emily, that one time. But just that one time. Emily is off-limits. Just like Sam was supposed to be, even though she's dating him. I am anything but a hypocrite... No, that's Casey's whole deal. So I gritted my teeth and made myself act nice. "Hey, Casey, get your clothes on! And dress nice! Wouldn't want you to have to go to school dressed like that, now would we we?" I sniped back just a bit too irritably. Oh well. I'm pissed, and she's just going to have to deal with it because I'm leaving in five minutes, whether she's ready or not.

Actually, no, that's a lie. I'm barging in her room in five minutes. After all I've got planned for Casey, I think she owes me. Especially the car thing. It took forever, but Dad's finally been letting me use the car. Driver's Ed pays off. I mean, it is almost my seventeenth birthday, and I'm mature enough. Plus, see, Dad drove Nora to work this morning, so her car's all mine. Let's just say I have big plans and supplies... Now, I just have to find those supplies. Aha! There they are... right under my bed, where no one, not Casey, not Lizzie, and not Nora, would ever look. Jackpot! I've got everything right here... Casey's favorite candy, magazines, her favorite books, ten mix CDs of her favorite music... one for every mood. I'm more than prepared for my evil little plan. Actually, I don't need to go to school at all... I just have one more connection to make.

I stashed the stuff in the backseat of the car and covered it up with this old quilt I happen to know Casey loves... In case she gets cold or anything. So I burst in Casey's door, and... unfortunately... She was all ready. Damn. I don't get a little birthday present of my own. We got in the car, and I let her pretty much have free reign over the radio, even though I hate girly music. I'd take the Pistols anyday over her Pop Princess crap. But I put up with it because I do everything with style and grace. We were pretty much silent all the way there, and she got out of the car when it was still running. I parked, trying not to show how unbelievably ticked off I was, and I strolled in there, looking cool as all get out. Because that's how I look every day, of course. So I pretty much breezed into class, lied, and copied off of that cute Melinda girl who sits next to me. And then, after a lifetime, the bell rang.

Well, I pretty much jumped out of class like I was on fire. I had places to be, people to see... Namely one in particular, and not Casey... Not yet, anyways. That's for later. I scanned the halls for one guy in particular. He sort of stands out, so I was confident that I'd find him. Besides, I'm Derek Venturi. Who doesn't want to talk to me? And then I spotted him, my hero in all black. Ew, that makes me sound like a girl. But, seriously, he could really help me here. I strutted towards him because that's what I do. "Yo, Trevor," I said, nodding at him. Wow. I can't believe I actually remembered his name. I haven't spoken to him in ages. I blame Casey. It's because of that bet, I tell you. Trevor looked surprised and stopped dead in his tracks like everyone does when I talk to them. "I need you to do me a solid," I requested a tad impolitely, walking down the hall next to him. I practically took up the whole hall, but what else is new?

Trevor gave me a skeptical look. His eyeliner bothers me. I mean, everything else I can stand, but the eyeliner is a tad too... goth/emo-ish. Ugh, I am so glad he's not emo. All those long bangs and girl jeans. Sam wore girl jeans once. It was absolutely disgusting! I about threw up in my hockey mask. And then I made sure that everyone on the team made fun of him for a week. We called him Girl Ass. I had wittier nicknames; I just don't remember them. But yeah, I totally respect the whole punk rock thing. As a matter of fact, I'm a devotee of that particular cult myself... It's just... Well, The Ramones didn't go walking around with eyeliner on.

It was pretty much t-shirts, jeans, sneakers, and leather jackets. Which is totally cool. And the attitude... even cooler. But yeah, back to Trevor. He was looking sort of apprehesive still, surprised I was actually talking to him. Me too, Buddy. Trevor frowned, clearly not at all liking me, well, not as much as everyone else. You know, I see why Casey liked this guy back after she and Sam broke up "for good". For good, my sweet ass. "What's in it for me?" Trevor asked suspiciously. My eyes widened in surprise. There is more to this guy than meets the eye. He's a real shark.

I was suddenly impressed. This guy, who was supposedly so sweet, thought exactly like I did. Or he at least treats me like I treat everyone else. This guy's something. I didn't expect him to ask for anything in return. You know, when today's over, I ought to talk to this guy more often. He sure sounds a lot cooler and less annoying than Sam. Not to mention that he seems to have the good sense to not steal my girl. And he seems actually... smart. Mental note: Hang out with Trevor sometime. He has definite cool potential. Now, cool's all attitude... There's some looks involved, and some charm/personality... But it's mostly attitude. And you either have the right attitude or style, or, well, you don't. Trevor definitely has it, not to mention a good taste in music.

Hmm, this is a whole new ballgame. And then I remembered something, glancing at people as we walked by. Emily. A little birdie told me something... Trevor didn't go out with Casey because he likes Emily. And I've seen the way he looks at her. Plus, if I hook Trevor up with Emily, it means I can get Emily off my back... which would be perfect! I'm beginning to like this idea more and more. I nodded, feeling the practiced smirk slide across my face. "You like Emily, right?" I asked smugly, already knowing the answer. I didn't even wait for a response. "Trust me, I know these things. It's _practically_ my job," I said self importantly, popping my collar and flashing a smile at some hot blonde freshman. She practically melted. Oh, yeah, I've still got it. I smiled, self-satisfied.

Trevor looked a bit paler, but come on... Casey's my stepsister. Did he think I wasn't going to know? For crying out loud, we made a bet on whether or not she could get him to ask her out! It's not like I care. I don't like Emily, and I'm not the type to spread things around the school unless I hate you. And why would I hate Trevor? Hell, I won that bet. I oughtta collect on it sometime... I rolled my eyes, trying to calm Trevor down. "Chillax, man..." I replied smoothly, looking him in the eye, "Don't worry. I can get you what you want if you help me out. I _assure_ you Emily will be yours." I looked Trevor in the eye again to show him I meant it, and I did, of course. Trevor contemplated it for approximately two seconds before making up his mind.

His eyes hardened, and his jaw tightened. And then he nodded. I grinned widely, fighting the urge to do something stupid... even though it would start a trend. "You won't regret this, man!" I promised enthusiastically. Trevor smiled tightly and said nothing. I suddenly realized that we were running out of time, and that if I didn't hurry, I'd have to scoop Casey out of class. Oh, right. Now I need to explain what I need. I turned to Trevor, reflexively biting my lip. "So, I happen to know that Unsensored's in town... And they just _happen_ to be my stepsister's favorite band... And I'm **sure** you know her birthday's today. I hear you've got the hook-up," I explained levelly, glancing at him out of my peripheral vision. I pursed my lips.

And then I turned around in the middle of the hallway all dramatic-like. "If you get them to the party, you get to come... They'd be a helluva birthday present," I offered, hoping it was tantalizing enough for him to accept. And if it wasn't, I'll just mention how he used Casey. Trevor seemed unsure, although whether that had to do with him actually getting the band or whether he wanted to do it was beyond me. Okay, he's taking too long, and I need a decision or promise now! Let's speed this up. I shot him a side-look. "We happen to live right _next_ to Emily, and it's kind of a given that she'll be there. I'm sure Casey will be too busy being the party girl to care much... Now, let's do the math here... Party Girl Casey and Host Derek equals a lonely Emily, which equals a chance for you to get in her good graces," I suggested helpfully.

Trevor's eyes lit up. I knew that would hit the spot. I grinned widely. Trevor nodded slowly. Even better. He's a man of few words. Again, remind me why I hang out with Sam? "Okay, I'll try. I can't make any promises, but I'll try," Trevor swore, meaning every word. He wasn't a dirty rotten liar like me. That was good, though. He promised to try, and it would totally make Casey's day if they were there. It's a surprise party, you see, so she doesn't even know that it's happening. And no, it wasn't Nora's idea. It was all my idea because I am the one in the family who loves Casey. And I'm the one who's in charge of everything... The food, the guests, the music, the secrecy, and (of course) distracting Casey. Trevor looked a bit ashamed of himself as well he should. "Besides, I think I owe it to her after that whole mess..." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. I wanted to agree with him, but I think that might make me a little too obvious, so I wisely kept my mouth the hell shut. Smart move, Derek.

Now, see, there's just one small thing... Two, actually, that Trevor has to do for me. I stopped Trevor in his tracks, whirling around to bark orders at him as politely as possible. "Two more things..." I began rather threateningly, I suppose. I didn't mean it like that. I was just dead serious about it. Trevor looked mildly alarmed, but yeah, like I was gonna kill him in the hallway... "They're just little things," I continued, trying to reassure him that I wasn't going to murder him. It didn't particularly work, but I pressed onward anyways. "One: I happen to know you're in Casey's next classes. Now, I'm taking her down to Toronto so she can visit her friends... We're gonna be leaving in a few minutes, only Casey doesn't know it yet. What you're going to do is tell your teacher that Derek Venturi told you that his stepsister got sick. The school nurse owes me a favor, so she will back you up. Unless I come in and pull Casey out of class, in which case it will be a family emergency, and my little brother or myself will have called it into the office. Just so you know the story, we will have said that my grandmother died. Don't let it get around school, don't let there be any big to-do about it. Because, as you know, that is a lie," I stated succinctly and precisely, speaking slowly to make sure Trevor understood every word.

Wow. I sounded like a businessman just there. Props. Okay, but seriously, I need to stop sounding so serious. It truly doesn't suit me. Trevor merely nodded, filing all this information away. I took that as my cue to continue and get to the incentive. "Now, secondly... I need you to tell Emily to get all of Casey's homework for her, because Casey worries about that sort of stuff... And she'll never agree to it unless I have this all carefully plotted out. Now, Emily should do it just for Casey and because it's really no trouble for her... But, should Emily refuse, just tell her Derek asked you to do it as a personal favor," I finished in a bored drawl. But, damn if Trevor wasn't giving me a funny look... Uh oh. What if he... what if he suspects something?

I'll quash that, though. But after I get Casey. I nodded at Trevor before he could say anything because the last thing I wanted was somebody questioning my questionable motives. I don't go to this much trouble for just anyone, you know. And then I disappeared over to Casey's locker, which was open. I just about scared the living daylights out of her she shut it. It was cute, really. She jumped about a foot in the air and dropped all her stuff. Klutzilla strikes again. I grinned, and she glowered at me. "What do you want, Derek?" She snapped irritably, bending down to pick up her things.

My grin widened. Cue the car keys, which dangled down from my index finger. "Takin' you out, babe," I replied coolly. That sure got her attention fast. Casey looked at me incredulously, gaping at my nerve. I wrapped an arm around a Casey who was too surprised to push me off, smiling sweetly. "Come on, Case, we're going on a road trip!" I said with a bit of enthusiasm, slyly dragging Casey towards the front door. Casey scowled at me and shoved me off of her. I refused to look foolish, so, upon noticing that the hall had virtually cleared out, I walked over to her determinedly and picked her up by the waist. Then I actually did carry her bodily all the way to the door, kicking and trying to scream. Except, of course, every time she screamed, I threatened to shut her up with a kiss... And, well, it worked pretty well.

That's kind of disheartening, but it worked. Besides, I know she liked it. After all, she did kiss me back. Multiple times. And I still have those memories to keep me warm at night... until Casey comes around. Which she will, of course. They all come around eventually. I don't care how strong-willed she is; I'm going to break her down. I'm very persistent. Most people don't know that, but I am. If I don't get what I want right away, I go after it... I chase it; I pursue it... And, heaven help me, I hunt it down until I've captured it. Which is exactly what I'm doing with Casey. And sometimes, you know, the hunter has to trick his quarry so that the prey gets her guard down a little... And then and only then does the hunter shoot. "Don't worry about it, Case. You went home sick as a result of the pain from the dentist's office. It's all covered, and Emily's getting your homework, now come on!" I hissed, dragging her out the door.

I practically had to force her into the car. "Derek! I can't miss school! I have a French test today!" Casey protested as I forcibly fastened her seatbelt. Had I rope, I would've tied her down so she couldn't escape. I rolled my eyes at her. Who does she think she's lying to? I'm the Lord of the Lies! She does not have a French test today. I know. I'm in her class. I'm lousy at French, but I think I could get by in Montreal... if I was a good enough hockey player. Plus, I don't speak with a Parisian accent, which is a good thing because they really hate that there. But like I said, no French test. Casey's a dreadful liar.

So I ignored her for the moment (a nearly impossible feat) and fastened my seatbelt. I put the keys in the ignition and was about to turn them when Casey suddenly twisted the keys free. She withdrew over to her side, fleeing to the door. Luckily, I had it locked and was halfway over her seat when she tried it. When Casey realized the door was locked, she panicked and suddenly realized that I was pretty much in her face and on her case. Ha, punny. She was so close, too, so close... It was driving me crazy.

You see, I was in sort of an awkward position. My legs were on the edge of my seat, which was kind of painful, but I overlooked that because my proximity to Casey was sufficiently... distracting. My hands were on her seat, one on either side of her. Since she was sort of curled up in a strange little ball with her back against the door and her knees up against her chest, my torso was only a few millimeters away from hers. My head was pretty damn close to hers, but the distance between our lips was still great enough to irritate me. I could kiss her right now, and it would be so easy, but she won't let me. Casey looked small and scared, and... I couldn't do this. I wanted to kiss her so bad it was killing me, but I knew if it did, I would most assuredly get caught up in it and go a little too far... and pushed things a little too hard and make her hate me all over again.

And she already hated me. I didn't want to exacerbate the problem. But I couldn't move either, because if I did she'd leave, and my whole brilliant master plan would be ruined. I didn't want to move, really. I knew that I would eventually have to, or that she'd like, I dunno, knee me in the balls and physically make me move... But I couldn't bring myself to do it. This might be the only time I ever get this close to her again, for all I know. So I've learned to relish what little I have. It's not as easy for me, being in this state, as I make it out to be. I try and stay optimistic about it because I can't afford to not be this way. I'm not wired like that, and people will notice if I act differently. But sometimes... It's hard.

It's hard knowing that I put myself out there like a freaking idiot, and she rejected me flat out. Actually, no, that's a lie. She denied how I felt. Yes, _she_ denied it. She doesn't have the right! How the hell does she think that she knows how I feel? She had no reaction whatsoever, and then she launched in on her little spiel about how much she loves Sam. And you know, she has no problem touting that excuse around me, none whatsoever. But, honestly, do you think she's told Sam that? She hasn't. Sam has no freaking clue. That's why he treats her so lousy. I don't think he'd treat her so bad if he knew she was in love with him. He still doesn't know that it's really that serious. What he doesn't realize is that Casey is serious about everything.

You have no idea how much that annoys me. Now, okay, I myself am a bit of a control freak, so having Miss Do-Gooder Type-A Personality in my house grates on my nerves just a bit. And I don't appreciate her make-over attempts at interior design, or her feminizing, vegetarianizing, sanitizing, sanctifying, sterilizing, organizing behavior. And I'm not gonna lie and say that that doesn't chafe at my neck because it does. But what really, really gets me is that she's so sanctimonious and so upright and so... perfect. Everything always has to be perfect and well-thought out and analyzed. She never does anything spur of the moment. She never lies. She never does stupid things. I want Casey to make a big mistake. I want her to screw up so bad. And yes, I do everything in my power to wreck her perfect little life.

Maybe I want to be that big mistake, although I resent being thought of as a mistake and can personally list off about twenty girls (off the top of my head!) that would say quite the contrary. She's so perfect, and I'm not. I hate it when people compare me to Casey because I'm not her. We aren't alike. We're only related by marriage, and the whole control-freak thing is really the only thing we really have in common. Then again, we both have our little shortcomings, don't we? Like her inability to be open to things... like me.

Some days it's really hard. When I wake up in the morning after this great dream and... then the reality hits me, and I have to take yet another cold shower. I'm tired of cold showers and seeing her and Sammy-Poo make out. I want Casey. For the first time in my life, I only want one thing... And of course, it happens to be that one thing that I can never get. But I'm keeping hope alive. I think my iron will can outlast Casey's. We'll see, I guess. I mean, honestly, why does she think I would lie about something like this? I don't want to feel this way, you know. If I had a choice, I'd just forget this terrible love thing ever happened. But I don't have that choice, and I do feel this way, so I'm the one that has to deal with it. I know she half-thinks I'm just doing it to piss her off, but, honestly, even I would never go that far.

I could feel her breath on my face. However, I could also feel her shaking, and I knew it wasn't right. I forced myself to pull back slowly, keeping my eyes on her. "Look, Casey... I've got it all handled. We're going to Toronto... That's not a terribly long drive. We can get some lunch on the way if you're hungry. If you're not we'll just go straight there, and you can see your friends and forget I exist," I said, trying to calm her down. Her eyes lit up when I said she could see her friends, but she still looked apprehensive and ready to bolt. Well, no more Mr. Nice Guy then. It was so hard to swallow down the bitterness in that sentence. As if Casey could forget I exist. Bah! She can't even ignore me for two seconds!

Then I pulled back even further, ripping the keys from her fingers. I was, after all, pretty pissed... But I was trying my damndest to hide that. Casey was still against the door. I rolled my eyes at her irritably. "You know, Case, you don't have a choice. I'm abducting you. So unless you're so desperate to get away from me that you'd risk killing yourself by climbing out the window or rolling out of a moving car, I'd recommend sitting down," I stated bluntly, putting the keys back in the ignition and staring at Casey until she caved in and fastened her seatbelt. I smiled. It feels so good to get my own way for once today. Casey merely sighed and looked out the window, and I felt really guilty all of a sudden- another reason why I hate this whole love thing.

So I leaned back and grabbed the quilt and the bag and threw them in her lap. Casey looked surprised, but she reluctantly picked a magazine out of the bag and started reading. Concordantly pleased with this development, I started driving. I had to resist the urge to peel out, but I managed. After all, I've resisted harder things... like Casey, for instance. We didn't stop driving until we got to Toronto. It didn't take too long, really. You tend to make good time when you go ten miles over the speed limit. Plus, there's not much traffic this time of day. Casey kept muttering things under her breath, though, which really got on my nerves. Anyways, so once we got in Toronto, I stopped in front of Casey's favorite restaurant.

Toronto's a helluva town. But as for how I know that, they mentioned it once when they were debating where to order take-out from. It was, of course, an impossibility, given that the restaurant was only in Toronto, but whatever. She doesn't think I pay attention to little things like that, but I do. I actually have a pretty good memory for details. After all, how do you think I pass my classes without doing homework? Erm, most of them, anyways... Sometimes I don't pay attention much in class. But I can't help it. It's not my fault that Sheena, who sits next to me, wore that shirt I could see down whenever I moved my head. Just like it isn't my fault that I sit across from Nicole in Math and she always wears those really short skirts with nothing on underneath...

And I can't help the fact that I sit in the back of the English class, right next to Marie-Therese, the (she might as well be foreign, for her "grahsp" of "Ingleessh") exchange student from Quebec. She always wears these shirts that are either really skimpy or half-way unbuttoned... for really easy access. She's quiet, too... well, except for all the French obscenities, but she whispers those, and no one understands what she means anyways. So the teacher never even notices that I've got my hand up her shirt... And we're the only people who sit back there. Stupid newbie teacher. S/he ought to know better. To be honest, I haven't paid enough attention in that class to bother even attempting to determine the sex of the teacher. And, well, I could do it the old-fashioned way, but, hello, I don't come on to men, and secondly, the teacher is a total dog. Much like the equally repulsive school nurse. I mean, hello, why do you think I'm flunking English?

I have an A in Math, though, despite all of my legendary footsie matches with Annette, er, Nicolette... Oh, right, Nicole. It's 'cause the math teacher's completely smokin' too. I can barely take my eyes off her. Plus, come on, I have Miss Evansenson for two classes a day... The woman loves me. And I love her, only not really. We're on a first name basis. I did hit on her, though, back in the day... Okay, so maybe it was like, the second week of the school year. Whatever. She's only, like, 22 or something. It's fair game. Plus she completely kissed me back. I so could've had her, you know, but I didn't want her to lose her job or anything. So, yeah, we're pretty tight.

We went in there and ate lunch. Naturally, I paid, and Casey didn't care. We pretty much ate in abject silence. The waitress thought we were going out. Casey got frantic and immediately denied it, but I could tell the girl still believed it. I guess she thought it was a booty-call arrangement thing, where you go to a restaurant with someone you don't normally want to be seen with just because they're great in the sack. Anyways, so in the middle of the meal, the owner of the restaurant came over and started talking to Casey. He was dressed normally in an apron and chef's hat. He took his hat off, revealing a shock of long, blond hair. It made him look somewhat like Sigfried from Sigfriend and Roy. Apparently he's a close friend of Nora's because he proudly introduced himself as Casey's godfather. He hugged Casey hello and kissed her on both cheeks, and I felt myself grow jealous. Casey didn't notice; she was too happy over seeing a friendly face. He and Casey chatted politely about school and dance. Then, a moment later, he suddenly glanced over and noticed me sitting there quietly.

He clapped his hands and looked excited to see me. He shot Casey a coy look and grinned at me in a way that made me feel very, very uncomfortable. "Casey, dear, who is this delicious slice of man-candy? Because, honey, I would like to break a piece off of him and take him home. He just looks scrumptious," Casey's godfather commented, undressing me with his eyes. Okay, so he was obviously gay... And I'm not gonna lie, that freaked me out a little. I shouldn't have been surprised, though. I mean, the hair? Being a chef at a French bistro done up in girly colors... And intelligently talking about ballet and fashion? I should've known! The way he was staring at me was really unnerving. Not to mention the way he said he totally wanted to take me home. But at least her godfather has good taste. Casey glanced at me and giggled. I saw that as progress. She shook her head, grinning widely.

Casey's gay godfather peered at me inquisitively. His eyes openly raked over me, taking in and memorizing every detail. Casey was clearly very amused at how uncomfortable I was. Truth be told, I was dying to get out of there, but I stayed... I just kept reminding myself that it was Casey's birthday and that being nice to Casey would pay off in the long run. This was all for Casey. All for Casey. I sighed softly. Casey's godfather turned back to Casey, waving a scolding finger at her. "Now, Missy, don't think I approve of you skipping school to go out on a date," He chastised, looking serious. Casey suddenly flushed, remembering why we weren't in school. She shot me a dark look, but her godfather failed to notice. He did, however, turn and grin at me flirtatiously. "Although, really, I can't blame you. I mean, if I had a guy like that taking me out, I'd be trying to do him in the restaurant," He exclaimed passionately.

I glanced down at the table, very, very, very embarrassed. I am rarely ever embarrassed, and normally I would be flattered by this sort of behavior... But coming from Casey's forty-year-old gay uncle, it was sorta really creepy. Casey looked completely mortified, perhaps even more than me, and she shook her head frantically. "No, this isn't a date!" She denied anxiously, proclaiming that so loud that a few patrons turned to stare at her. If it was possible, she turned an even darker shade of red at this. I merely smiled dreamily, staring at her, completely enraptured. She was just so... cute. This was a prime example of why I loved to get her all riled up. The color would flood to her cheeks, and she'd get that look on her face...

Casey's uncle (or should I say aunt?) shot her a disbelieving, knowing look. He nodded slowly. "_Right_," He said sarcastically. He winked at Casey, looking daydreamy. "Forbidden love, huh?" He asked curiously, looking rather excited. You have no idea, I thought. However, out of respect for Casey, I refrained from speaking. Casey was still too stunned by the sudden turn of events to speak, so her uncle was allowed to continue speaking. He clapped his hands girlishly, looking at me interestedly. He seemed to be trying to read me as if to figure out which kind of guy I was. "Ooh! A bad boy!" He proclaimed brightly. He patted Casey on the shoulder, never taking his eyes off me. "I've taught you well, Casey," He murmured in a low voice, licking his lips. I resisted the urge to shudder in revulsion and the vague sense of terror that threatened to overwhelm me. Casey was still too horrified at the prospect of such a close friend thinking she was dating me to say anything to the contrary, which surprised me. She was so ready to say things to me and to lie and deny the truth, but it was not so around old friends. I wondered if she would act the same once we got to her old school. "Well, that's okay," He whispered conspiratorially, "My lips are sealed." And then, of course, he made the obligatory lip-zipping gesture. This time, he winked at me.

Casey finally seemed to gather her wits about her when it became obvious that I wasn't going to deny anything. I mean, I'm the one who wants to date her in the first place. You really think I'm gonna deny that? She cleared her throat, still a bright red, shaking her head. "Really, you couldn't be more wrong," She replied icily. Her godfather seemed a bit surprised by this frosty side of Casey. Apparently he doesn't know her as well as I thought. Then Casey extended her hand, casually gesturing to me. She was desperately trying to maintain the cool she had lost long, long ago. "Donald, this is Derek Venturi.. my stepbrother," She introduced, voice dripping with disdain. I smiled politely at her Donald, waving slightly.

Donald looked a bit surprised but altogether amused. "Forbidden love, indeed," He muttered softly, glancing between the two of us with interest. I nodded, feeling the smile on my face widen. Casey glared daggers at me, shaking her head wildly... If looks could kill, that one would've. She had to get whiplash from shaking her head like that. Donald pursed his lips, turning once again to Casey. "So this is the _stepbother_ I've been hearing so _little_ about..." He said disapprovingly, trying to make Casey feel guilty for not mentioning me. I personally found this a bit odd, considering that Casey has this tendency of mentioning me all the time in everyday conversation (i.e. complaints). Casey had the good grace to blush. Donald looked proud as a peacock for his little Casey. Although still perturbed, I was beginning to like this man more and more. He was obviously supportive of a relationship between the two of us, not to mention that he thought I was attractive. Shrewdly, I began to see a future ally in this godfather of Casey's. I was going to need all the help I could get.

Donald gave me another look, liking very much what he saw. And then, of course he turned back to Casey and slapped her lightly on the arm. "Well, he's much cuter than I imagined! Why didn't you tell me?" He scolded, frowning. I smiled as Casey looked even more embarrassed. He finally stopped clucking over her like a mother hen and turned to face me. "So, you're the Big Bad Wolf, huh?" He asked sassily, addressing me without any of the respectful fear I deserve. "You don't look that tough to me," He assessed somewhat critically, making me assume that Casey had told him a bit about me after all. Naturally, I snorted at this. A gay man telling me _I'm_ not tough? Talk about your irony.

Casey kicked me under the table, which hurt... But she's not like Lizzie. I'd be more afraid of Lizzie because she's a soccer player, plus I trained her in hockey. Not to mention that she's in Tae Kwon Do. That child is an athletic force to be reckoned with... I wonder if my brother can keep up with her. I didn't even flinch, though, and it didn't really hurt me a lot. I merely shrugged coolly. "Looks can be deceiving," I said diffidently, glancing deliberately at Casey. Then I stopped being so serious and actually smiled. "It's nice to meet one of Casey's... friends," I said politely. Donald smiled back in a similar fashion. He made Casey scoot over and sat down in the booth with us. And, then, of course, he resumed his habit of staring at me. I suddenly understood the look in his eyes. It was asking why Casey and I were here.

I straightened up at this realization and tried to imitate a polished appearance. "Figured I ought to take my favorite stepsister out for her birthday... And this just happens to be her favorite restaurant," I stated smoothly. It was odd, being on Casey's home-turf and all... But I felt confident again. Not that I had never stopped feeling confident. I just felt... normal again. I didn't feel off-kilter anymore, and I didn't need to be silent. I suddenly felt like Casey and I were back on even ground, and it was a good feeling. I smiled, suddenly deciding to be charming. If I had Casey's godfather on my side... Well, I don't know, exactly, but it's a good thing! "I'm really enjoying my meal, by the way," I complimented, blithely ignoring the look Casey shot me. I don't really care if she thinks I'm a suck-up. I mean, honestly, it's not like she's one to talk. And sometimes you have to grease the wheel a little to get the ball rolling.

I glanced down so as to not see the rapturous look on Donald's face. I could feel him smiling, though, just as much as I felt Casey's disapproval. I had a few more bites of my food before I looked back up with a practiced cool. Okay, so that's a total lie. This kind of cool requires no practice. I was just born like this. Even when I was seven and had the long hair... I was a late hippie. I was just ahead of the times. Nowadays everyone has long hair. Besides, those stupid Hanson brothers did it! Although they were total chicks, and I most certainly am not. I smirked again, and it felt really good. I saw Casey roll her eyes, but I wasn't going to let Casey have control over me... mind, body, and soul. I mean, come on, I love the girl, but I have more backbone than that. I met her stare unashamedly, holding my head high. "Turns out my beloved sister has good taste after all," I praised, holding up my fork in a sort of salute.

Casey's eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched under the table. I merely grinned and slouched comfortably against the back of the seat. Casey's godfather grinned, happy with the compliments. Really, it was the least I could do. Great taste in food, crap taste in guys, I guess. He shot me another laschivious look, smiling coyly. "Yes, she does!" He declared boldly, lightly elbowing Casey in the side. Casey looked disgusted at the prospect of me being involved with her. It's all an act, though; I can tell. I rolled my eyes rather bitterly.

Stupid Sam. Error in judgment, I tell you. I snorted. "Lemme tell you, Don... you wouldn't say that if you ever saw her boyfriend," I replied slightly more nastily than I should've. I made a gagging noise. But, you know, I was just sick of pretending that I was okay with her going out with my best friend. I really wasn't. I mean, why is she with him? I know she loves him and all... But he doesn't love her. And he doesn't even treat her right! He doesn't even treat her decently. He's late to all their dates, never even goes Dutch for food... And he kisses like a fish! Plus he lost his virginity to the school nurse! The _ugly_-ass school nurse.

I mean, I sort of watered it down for Casey, but he totally lost it to the school nurse. While he was with Casey, too, but she doesn't know that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I sort of hate him and all about half the time... But he's still my boy, you know, and I can't betray him like that. Plus it's sorta embarrassing. Okay, really freakin' embarrassing. I could ruin him like that, but I personally think it's just truly shameful. It's too embarrassing for me to ever tell anyone but Casey. I mean, yeah, the rumors are one thing... But the truth, well, that's something else, all right. I know he lost it to the nurse. You wanna know how I know? Well, actually, I don't know for sure, but you see... Before Ole Sammy boinked the nurse, he was kind of a flatline, and he and Casey were all lovey-dovey and what not. There was no chemistry there, but I guess he just started wanting sex, you know? See, before Sam was... well, okay, he wasn't that respectable, but he wasn't a total nympho, y'know?

And then he went to the nurse, she offered to service him (which she does to EVERYONE the first time they go in... By does I mean she just offers to do it. Everyone either runs away, swallows nervously, or pointedly ignores it, usually depending on how bad the injury is). And it was a slow day, and Sammy must've been mega horny or something... Because there was no one in there, and so I assume he took her up on it. I say I assume because I really don't know. I came to the nurse's office like... 30 minutes after Sam went (since he'd gotten _sick_ in Gym)... And, well, I encountered a sight that made me mighty sick. The site was pretty much Sam and the nurse, mid-coitus. Ick times infinity, okay?

So I pretty much shut the door and tried to wash the images from my mind. But then they came back, so I raced to the bathroom and vomited repeatedly. Then I chugged some mouthwash (I always keep some, just in case... Plus it has that tingling burst of alcohol) and went back out into the hall, grabbed the biggest slut I knew... and had sex with her in the closet. That was... satisfying, to say the least. So, like I said, Sam and the nurse happened. More than once, sadly, which makes it worse. And now that I think about it, Sam kept getting "sick" that week. And, I mean, the first time he did it, it was completely bogus and I thought he was just doing it to get out of doing push-ups... But what if he was just doing that so he could go do the easy nurse? I mean, seriously, it makes you wonder how planned out his whole fling was. I'm telling you, it lasted two weeks straight. He started getting doctor's orders and crap. It wasn't right, so I confronted him and made him stop.

And then, y'know, every time he and Casey broke up, he would have some new girlfriend. Which is strange, but I guess he was so focused on getting laid that he forgot all about hockey. And I thought him and Casey were sickening. At least they weren't trying to have sex in front of me. I mean, even I think that was in bad taste. It's like he was trying to act like me but without the charm and with more sleaziness. It was truly despicable... And that's why I think he's cheating on her. It all adds up... being late for dates, making her pay, hooking up with other girls before Casey (well, again... They've broken up so many times I lost count). He's a lousy boyfriend, and in my experience, a lousy boyfriend equals a cheater. I should know.

Donald laughed and hit his leg, turning to Casey, clearly pleased with me. "Ooh, and funny too!" He exclaimed brightly. He turned his stare back on me, amusement shining in his eyes. "Please, Derek, you simply must call me Donny!" He announced, officially giving me his stamp of approval. I smiled victoriously, and my smile widened when my eyes slid over to Casey. One wall down, another ten thousand to go. You see, I had this foolish notion that if I got the important people in Casey's life to like me, then she would follow. But trying to predict anything Casey has ever done is impossible and only serves to get me in trouble. As it did here. But still, it's always good to make new allies.

I smiled and chatted with Donny about Casey as a pretty little girl, and by the time the conversation was over, Casey was fuming. Donny did, however, give us free dessert. And he led the whole restaurant in a wonderful chorus of "Happy Birthday". It was a wonderful free dessert, too, mainly because it was free... It was this huge platter of fancy stuff like gelato and cheesecake and tiramisu and cream puffs and pastries and chocolate souffle and... Mouthwateringly delicious it was. At the end of the meal, he was so keen on me that he proclaimed "we really have to talk more!" and said that he'd give me a meal on the house if I stopped by to see him from time to time. If I brought Casey or Lizzie or Marti (because he'd heard she was this adorable little munchkin), he'd throw in free refills and dessert. So, all in all, it was a very successful lunch. I felt full, satisfied, and sorta sleepy, but not from the fun way. From food.

Casey looked similarly full, although her cheeks were still red from embarrassment. She wasn't really happy about the whole restaurant singing to her or my new friendship with Donny. I, however, couldn't be happier. Okay, that's a lie. I mean, hello, hooking up with Casey equals instant gratification. But I was as pleased as punch about how it had gone. Now I just had to warm over her friends, who hopefully harbored no grudges from that Halloween Party. We said goodbye to Casey's godfather and went back out to the car. I started off for Fletcher Academy (it's truly amazing what you can find with MapQuest, now isn't it?). As we got closer and closer to it, I could see Casey's excitement growing in spite of herself.

We got there just as they were getting out, so I parked got out first so I could open Casey's door for her. She didn't appreciate the chivalry, which is really ironic because she loves it when Sammy does stuff like that. She always says I should be more like him, you know? Casey ran past me and at her friends, embracing all of them like an insane woman. Of course, she had time to snap over her shoulder that I really shouldn't have dragged her out of school for it, and that she could've invited them over like a sane person. Nice to see she appreciates me. So while she was doing her girly thing and throwing the occasional glare in my direction, I chatted up and arranged some dates with some giggly, stupid sluts. And I called home to ask how the party prep was going and when we should be home.

So in total we spent about thirty-five minutes at the school before I turned, physically grabbed Casey despite rather loud vocal protests, and set her in the car. The party would be ready by the time we got there. She glowered at me, muttering about indignity and playing hooky and how much she hated me. I drove home like a madman and practically leapt out of the car, leading Casey to the front door. She opened it and everyone yelled "SURPRISE!" Casey, Manners Diva, actually slammed the door shut and whirled around to tell me just how much she hated surprises (like I didn't notice that), and if it was my idea, just how stupid it was. I was beginning to wonder just what I loved about her, but I sucked it up and gently pushed Casey towards the door. "Be a good hostess, Case," I muttered irritably, opening the door and pushing her inside.

I plastered on a fake smile and worked the room. Talked to the parents, talked to Emily, talked to Trevor... By the way, Trevor had gotten the band in question, and I could tell Casey liked the gesture. Although she wouldn't when she found out I'd engineered it. Still, I couldn't help but notice... Sam wasn't there. I even chatted up a few bandmates on one of their breaks, told 'em a bit about the birthday girl. Then I ate cake, swilled some punch, wishing it was spiked. Casey ignored me for most of it, until she came over to me when the party was halfway through. "Where's Sam?" She snapped rudely. I just shrugged because I didn't really know. It wasn't like I hadn't told him about the party. "I know you have this petty dislike of him right now because of me... And that you're jealous, and you see him as a rival. But he's my boyfriend and I love him, and you... You just need to understand tha-" Casey growled, talking faster and faster.

I wanted to shake her, but I cut her off instead, feeling angry at all the unwarranted remarks. I mean, come on, I was not jealous! "For your information, Birthday Princess, I did invite your boyfriend to the party. He was the second person I invited, right after Emily. So don't tell me things I already know. It's not my fault he isn't here!" I stated coolly. Okay, so maybe my temper flared up a bit at the end. But Sam is a waste of her time. She's gonna find that out sooner or later without my telling her, and she's gonna wish she listened.

Casey's face fell at that, and I was almost sorry I told her. She was so used to thinking I was the bad guy, but this time I wasn't. But she deserved to know. Casey frowned and walked off without a thanks. I sighed, feeling very unfulfilled, and then went upstairs. I pulled out a bottle of liquor I keep for "special occasions" and spiked my punch. I suddenly felt much better, and I walked downstairs with a new spring in my step. Casey had already opened all the presents (except those from the family), so I mingled and ate some more cake. Sam never showed. Then we shooed everyone out around nine, and it was time for the private festivities. I really wish they were the fun kind of festivities, but they were more the family kind. Undamnfortunately.

I didn't really pay attention to what everyone else got her. Marti drew her a picture. Casey in the Sky with Diamonds or something. A bit derivative, but I didn't say anything. If the kid thinks she's Jules Lennon, who am I to disagree? Lizzie got her some stupid dance thing... I dunno, maybe a video or something? Nora got Casey clothes, and Daddy Dearest got her a gift certificate because he doesn't know what to get a sixteen-year-old boy, let alone a girl. Edwin got her some of her girly smelly junk, you know... The stuff Marti made potions with. And then it was my turn, and practically everybody thought I hadn't gotten her anything. I felt mildly insulted at the slight, but I pulled the present, wrapped up all nice and tidy. It was in a square box. Not a little square box, a big one, a fancy one... The kind you use for pearl necklaces.

I'd gotten it when I went upstairs. I'd really put a lot of thought into it, and it was really hard to find. Up in the attic, that is... Do you seriously know how many boxes I had to go through to find it? Far too many. And it was even harder to sneak up there without Edwin noticing, since he's in there almost twenty-four hours a day. So I had to sneak in and be careful to put everything back because Edwin always notices when something's out of place. Casey better appreciate it. I smiled and handed a visibly shocked Casey the present, grinning brightly. That immediately worried everyone, I think, because they thought I got her a prank gift.

Casey began to open it warily, making sure to remove the paper extra slowly so it came off in one, whole, perfect piece. Once she'd stripped it of the paper, she was left with a long black-velvet box. She shot me a curious look, to which I merely shrugged, and then she opened it. I was looking at her face because I already knew what it was. A look of stunned awe passed over her face, and she glanced to me immediately. None of the family could see it yet, so they didn't get it. "Are these... real?" Casey asked breathlessly, disbelieving. I nodded slowly. Yes, the diamonds were very real. Casey openly gaped at me, clearly wondering how I could afford them. She set the box down on the table, and everyone whirled it around to see what I'd given her.

Nora and Lizzie both gaped at me, floored by my generosity. Edwin gave me a surprised look, and Marti smiled, exclaiming that it was really a very pretty necklace. I smiled at that, but the look on Dad's face made the grin drop right off my face. He was furious. I can't really blame him, considering that the necklace stirs up some old memories. You see, that very necklace is a family heirloom. It belonged to my mother and her mother before her, so it's probably supposed to go to Marti. But I'm the oldest, and it was just laying there, forgotten, in the attic. I think... I think my mom would want Casey to have it. She _deserves_ to have it.

Dad's face was white, and Nora didn't understand. The little kids didn't either, because I'm the only one who was old enough to really remember her before she died. She loved that necklace, you know... Her mother gave it to her the day she got married to my dad. It was her "something old". Casey looked mildly uncomfortable by the gift. I know it was extravagant, and I should've asked my dad or consulted Mom's will before giving it to her, but I don't have that kind of time. Besides, it would've ruined the lovely little surprise. Like I said, I don't do things halfway. "Derek... You have no right to give her that," My dad said tersely, glowering at me.

I shrugged, pretending like I didn't care. Really, I could care less what Dad thought of me. It wasn't his necklace, after all. It was Mom's, and I've got half of her DNA, don't I? I smirked widely, holding out my arms. "Just welcoming my favorite stepsister into the family like you wanted, Dad," I remarked coolly, grinning across the room at Casey. Nora looked touched, and Casey looked a bit disgusted. "Besides, I personally think Mom would want Casey to have it. She would've liked Casey a lot, I think," I continued slowly, antagonizing him a little bit. Dad stiffened, and Casey's eyes widened at the revelation that the necklace had belonged to my mother. She pushed it back across the table towards me in a passive way of saying she couldn't take it.

I pushed it back, smiling like a madman and nodding. I desperately wished for a cigarette. "No, Casey, take it," I protested easily. I wanted her to wear it and think of me. Man, did I want a smoke. "Only the best for my favorite stepsister. Really. Sixteen's a big birthday. I know, I've been there. So take it, Case. You know you want to. It's a nice present. I had it all polished up for you," I replied, trying to coerce her into taking it. Casey shook her head, and I rolled my eyes, annoyed. And then I stood up real dramatically and sort of forgot that there were other people in the room. "Why won't you let me do anything nice for you?" I asked, feeling confused. I had given her a great gift. How many sixteen year olds get diamond necklaces for their birthday.

Actually, it has five diamonds on it, spaced out at various intervals. I don't exactly know how many carats it has, but it's a fair amount. It's got a white-gold chain, that's what the jeweler said, anyways. Casey didn't answer. She just glanced down and played with her hands. She never answers. I glanced at my dad, who still had a disapproving look on his face. I just... I wanted to shut him up. I was trying, really trying to get along with Casey here, and he had a problem with it! I glowered at my dad, who stiffened under my stare. Surprisingly, he held up his head and acted like he had a backbone... I, however, was born with a stronger backbone than his, and I fully intended to make use of that. I continued to stare Dad down. "I want _Casey_ to have that necklace, Dad," I stated frostily, emphasizing every word to make sure my message was extra clear.

My mother loved me, and she loved me a lot. I was her favorite because I was her first-born. I generally try and avoid thinking about her because it brings up a lot of unwanted emotions. You see, when my mother died... Dad wasn't the same afterwards. He was depressed for a whole year. Then he got over it little by little by burying himself in his work and dating and... other things. So I had to grow up. At ten-years-old, I became the reigning adult of my family. Ever since, I've been the man of my house, the Alpha Male, and I won't let my dad forget that. He was weak, so I had to be strong for the kids' sake. I had to learn to make dinner and to feed the baby, because that's all Marti was, a baby. And I had to change her and take care of her... They don't remember, but for a whole year of their lives; I was their daddy.

I care about my brother and sister a lot, even if I don't act like it all the time. My mother spoiled me when I was a little kid. She let me have whatever I wanted, and I remember how mad it made my dad. So that's how it's always been... What Derek wants, Derek gets. Dad's a pansy, so I learned early on after Mom's death how to manipulate people into doing what I wanted. Oh, man, I pulled that guilt card for years... Got me out of my homework and tests... And then I learned how to lie, and I learned that I liked it. I liked it a lot, and I was damn good at it, too. Dad knows just how much Mom loved me, and that's how I know he'll give in. Because Mom might've wanted Marti to have that necklace, but if... If Mom's been seeing what I've been up to lately, I'm sure she'd think it was a miracle that I was in love. And she'd want me to give Casey the damn necklace as a token of my love because she'd want me to be with Casey.

I continued to stare Dad down frostily, rising to my full height and crossing my arms over my chest. "Mom always gave me what I wanted, remember?" I asked cruelly, knowing that would break Dad. Dad finally looked down, and I could see him give up. I smirked at him, feeling very victorious. I turned my glance to Casey, smiling lazily and checking her out. My smile widened. "Enjoy the diamonds, Case, 'cause they're all yours," I drawled languidly, smirking at her before mounting the stairs. Then I retired to my room and pulled out the bottle, just staring at it for a minute. I was debating having a little nip when Casey suddenly barged in my room. No knocking. I made her break her own rule. I grinned at the mere thought.

I held out the bottle. "Care for a drink, milady?" I inquired somewhat drunkenly. Casey shook her head and looked disgusted. I just shrugged, ripped off the cap and took one very, very long sip. It burned on the way down, but I'd long-ago learned how to overcome that. Casey sighed and reached over, ripping the bottle from my hand and replacing the cap. She kicked it under my bed, and I felt a bit annoyed. Can't a man drink in the privacy of his own room? It's not like I'm an alcoholic. I just had an awful day. Casey made me feel bad at every given opportunity. "What, come to murder me in my bed? I'm surprised you didn't show up with a butcher knife, you know, to really drive a knife into my heart," I snarled rather bitterly. She'd been a total bitch to me all day and all I'd been trying to do was what she wanted. Everything I'd done that day was for her.

Casey had grace enough to wince, and I smiled bitterly. She sat calmly on the edge of my bed. She held the box that contained the necklace, and just like that, she pressed it back into my hands. "It's not mine to have," She murmured softly, looking down. I sighed wearily and pushed it back into her hands. I nodded. Yes, yes, it was. I was sick of the hubbub surrounding it. I just wanted to get her a present, that's all, and a nice one. And I got her that. I got her a frickin' priceless heirloom that belonged to my own mother! I've only ever loved three women in my life: my mom, Marti, and, now... Casey. Why can't she see that?

Casey tried to give it back, but I pushed it back at her. "Casey, I love you. Just take the damn present. For my sake. You deserve all the best, you know that? And I want to give that to you. I want to give you everything," I mumbled quietly, trailing off. Then I looked directly at her, and she was real and close enough to touch, but I didn't lay a finger on her. I could've, but I didn't. I sighed, leaning against my headboard. "Hell, I spent all day running around, just trying to make you happy. I made you breakfast, but you spit it out. I took you out of school and got Emily to get your homework for you, but you just complained. I drove you to and from Toronto, took you out to your favorite restaurant, won over your godfather, and took you to see your friends. And you barely said two words to me that whole time. I even set up this whole party for you and asked Trevor to get your favorite band to play at your birthday party, but you berate me and tell me how stupid I am and how much you hate surprise parties. And then I get you a diamond necklace, but you won't accept it. I was nice to you all day, Casey! I didn't say anything against you. I didn't play any pranks. I didn't hit on you or tell you how much I love you even once. And you don't even care!" I exclaimed frustratedly. Why couldn't she see?

Casey's eyes turned down, and she was so ashamed. I felt bad for telling her the truth, but that was how I felt. And I was drunk. But I continued because the clock on my wall said it wasn't her birthday anymore. How had so much time passed without my noticing? I could've sworn I saw tears glistening in her eyes. But I was pissed and fed up and mired in self-pity. "I'm never going to be good enough to fit in your perfect little world, am I, Casey?" I asked bitterly. I didn't expect an answer, and she didn't give me one. I cleared my throat and motioned for her to leave, but Casey didn't go. Typical Casey. I could see the tears beginning to drip down her face, and I regretted being so cruel.

She sighed and managed a weak smile, fingering the box. "I still don't believe it, Derek. People like you don't love girls like me. And you don't love anyone, but you love me and... I threw it in your face," Casey breathed shakily. The tears came harder, and she tried frantically to wipe them away. "I'm sorry, Derek. Even you don't deserve that kind of treatment," She apologized through the tears, putting her hand on my shoulder. Thanks, I thought bitterly. The "even you" comment stung. I shrugged her hand off. It didn't feel like a comfort. She silently opened up the box, picking up the necklace with trembling, clumsy fingers. "Would you?" She asked pleadingly, looking at me questioningly.

I sighed wearily, nodding, and I sat up. I slid towards her, grabbing the necklace from her unsure fingers, and I placed it carefully around her neck. She was so close I could smell her perfume, and my breath tickled the back of her neck. "Never take it off," I whispered. My lips accidentally brushed against the back of her neck as I spoke, and Casey took a sharp intake of breath. She nodded resolutely, the words dying a slow death on her lips. I fastened the clasp and let the necklace fall. It hurt so badly for me to do it, but I didn't touch her after that. I resumed my reclining position and expected she would just leave.

She stood slowly, and the box fell off her lap. I gave her a once-over, liking very much what I saw. But what I liked most of all was that she was wearing the necklace I had given her. I suddenly noticed that she was wearing very little... Only a very skimpy pink nightgown that came above her knees, revealing her long dancer's legs. It clung to her in all the right places, and it made me ache in the worst ways. That and the necklace I'd given her. I really did want the best for her, even if it wasn't me. I looked down shamefully and waited for her to leave so I could resume my drinking. But she didn't leave. "I think you've done enough for me, Derek," She murmured softly. When I looked up at her, she was smiling at me. I gazed at her, confused, when suddenly Casey did the strangest thing.

She actually leaned down and pressed her lips to mine chastely. Casey kissed me, and she wasn't sleep deprived, and she didn't think I was Sam. It started out chaste, but it had been a long day, and I hadn't kissed anyone. I was so hungry for Casey, and I wanted her more than words can describe. But, of course, I had to be a damn gentleman about it. But Casey surprised me once again, and she kissed me back full force. She even wrapped her hands around my neck and tumbled down on top of me. Never once did her lips stray from mine. I wrapped my arms around her back, pressing her closer to me. That fabric was so damn thin; I could feel everything. She made me moan, and few girls, no matter how great the performance, have ever done that. She felt so good that I wanted to hold her down on top of me forever. We kissed until there was no breath left in my lungs.

Casey pulled back then, smiling at me rather shyly. I resisted the urge to kiss her again with every bone in my body, but it was so damn hard. "Think of it as my way of saying thanks," She mumbled quietly, in a low, breathy tone. I smiled back brilliantly, and Casey slowly got off of me. I missed her warmth already. I pouted and even tried to whine, but Casey merely flushed. So I grabbed her wrist and pulled her against me. I really couldn't take it any more.

"Touch me, Case," I pleaded huskily, entreating her to grant my birthday wish with puppy-dog eyes. Casey smiled awkwardly and tried to get out of my grip, but I held fast, being careful not to bruise her. "_Please_," I begged beseechingly, throwing every emotion I had into the appeal. Casey's eyes softened a little, and so she placed her free hand on my chest. I put my other hand on top of hers and slowly moved it down my chest, down my abdomen. I closed my eyes in bliss, feeling her fingertips trailing down my body. Unfortunately, I was wearing too many clothes to really enjoy the moment. Casey jerked her hand out from under mine when I'd brought her hand just above my crotch, and I felt severely disappointed. Casey flushed a deeper red and looked down at the floor immediately. "My bare skin," I continued greedily, relishing the feeling. But Casey shook her head at this, so I pulled both shirts up and placed the hand I held by the wrist on my stomach. Once again I tried to bring it down, but Casey stopped at the waistband of my jeans. She followed it with her finger, bringing it back and forth because she knew what it did to me.

Casey effectively managed to distract me, all right. I slowly let go of her hand, but before she could go... I leaned in and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her neck, right above the diamond in the middle. And then I backed away and politely let her go. I smiled widely at her and wiggled my fingers in what was supposed to be a wave. Casey managed to force a very awkward smile before she turned around to leave. However, I couldn't help but notice that she tripped on her way out the door. Now, that could be for several reasons. It could be that my room is just messy and that she wasn't looking where she was going. It could also be that it was so dark in here that she just didn't see it. Or, maybe... Just maybe... She was finally falling for me. I smiled at the thought, but something finally occurred to me.

I rushed to my feet and immediately barged into Casey's room. She was trying on clothes that flattered her so much my throat went dry. Apparently she was trying to teach Sam a lesson. Well, damn. I gaped at her wordlessly until she turned and saw me. She looked confused, and I shook it off and explained quickly. "Casey... I'm sorry about Sam," I blurted out. Casey's eyes were sad as she gazed in the mirror, turning and surveying her reflection as if wondering if she was good enough for him. Casey shrugged and said nothing, but I could tell it was eating her up. "He really doesn't deserve someone like you," I said instead of saying I thought he might be cheating on her. He'd really screwed up this time.

I mean, normally I like that, but Casey doesn't deserve this crap. Casey turned around and smiled at me sadly. Then she walked over to me slowly, as if in a dream. She placed her hand on my cheek and regarded me cautiously. "You're a good man, Derek," She proclaimed decidedly, pressing a kiss to my cheek casually. For a second there, I thought she was going to kiss me on the lips. I found myself disappointed that it hadn't unfolded like that. A good man, huh, what's that worth? I'm not a good guy anyways. I just shook my head at her. She kept looking at me though, a curious gleam in her eyes. "And if you weren't my stepbrother, I might..." She began, suddenly trailing off. I wanted to know what she was going to say. But she shook her head and stopped talking.

I gave her an expectant look, but she just rolled her eyes at me and pretended she didn't see. "And if you want to finish this little fantasy, you'd better go back to your room and your liquor," Casey hissed suddenly, shoving me towards the door. I struggled against her, feeling very confused at her sudden mood change. She acted like nothing had happened. Strange. I stopped dead in my tracks. Casey cleared her throat impatiently. "Now, go on. You won't remember any of this tomorrow," Casey growled irritably, pushing me once again. Well, fine. If that's the way she wanted to play it...

I grinned lazily at Casey and let her push me out the door. "Hope it'll be a Sweet Sixteen, Birthday Princess," I remarked almost sarcastically, giving her a mock salute. Naturally, Casey was unamused. I winked at her. "But if you change your mind and want a **real** man, you know where to find me. I'll treat you right, I swear. The offer's always open," I suggested earnestly, all the while knowing Casey wouldn't accept. She just made a face, and I blew her a kiss. "Goodnight, Case. I love you too," I mumbled over my shoulder, barely glancing at her. I didn't even wave, and Casey didn't say anything.

Why did she run so hot and cold on me? I sighed, picking the bottle up from under my bed, and I took a long, lingering sip that burned a hole down my throat. I would never understand Casey, but somehow I knew that if I kept up... I'd eventually get what I wanted. I brushed my lips distractedly, the same lips she'd kissed a few minutes ago on this very bed. Casey was wrong, though; I would remember everything tomorrow.

I stopped drinking after that one sip and pulled out a cigarette. Normally I didn't smoke in the house, but tonight was a special occasion, after all. I fumbled around for my lighter, finally found it, and lit my cigarette. I inhaled and exhaled the hot smoke, and as I did that, I felt my stress melting away. I sighed contentedly, grinning as I remembered Casey's lips on mine. She felt so good, so soft. I am definitely going to have to get that girl some lingerie for Christmas. I smiled at the thought of Casey prancing around in sexy lingerie and leaned back against my pillow. When I was finished, I put the cigarette out with the tip of my finger and tossed the useless butt into the trash. Then I opened the window to let in fresh air, and I stripped off my clothes.

Getting into bed, my last thoughts were that maybe, just maybe, I had a chance after all.

And maybe, if I was lucky, I would get my birthday and Christmas wish, which (or rather who) was, of course, Casey.

Because I wanted Casey more than anything else in the world.

It's just too damn bad I haven't been a good boy by any stretch of the word.

But, hey, God... Just in case you're listening, they say the love of a good woman changes a man.

Hint, hint.

- Loren ;

Thanks for all the great reviews! I really, really, really appreciate them, especially the long ones!


	16. What You Want

Okay, so unbelievably, I wrote this chapter in the better part of three days. Pretty much. The beginning up to the part where Casey shoves Lizzie into the bathroom (save the first paragraph) was one day. The part from right after that to the part where Casey says "it gets worse still". And then that part after to the end. So basically a three-day Odyssey. Whoo. Anyways, this chapter's sort of eclectic. I finally saw the episode where Casey's dad comes to dinner and the Battle of the Bands one... So, yeah. When I refer to "Uncle Dennis", that's kind of what that's all about. He just wasn't her dad. He was her dad's brother. Who Nora sort of had a thing with... Anyways. He was like a dad to them. Now, really, that's just a very minimal part of the chapter, but I figured I ought to explain that.

This chapter was actually really exiting to write, which is saying something, since it's a Casey chapter... But you get to see a little bit of Casey's dark side starting in this chapter. You start to see the emergence of some rather disturbing mania in Casey's head. Oh, and this chapter contains some disturbing sexual insinuations... And I don't mean something Derek says, because he doesn't hit on Casey in this chapter. It's just... not something I've done before, so I'm nervous about it. But if hinting at sex disturbs you, like serious hinting... Then don't read it. This chapter's also pretty short compared to the last one, but it makes for a really fast, exciting read. I think everyone'll like this chapter.

I don't own Life With Derek or any of the involved characters... However, I do own Cassy and Dean. Whom you'll meet later on in the chapter. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"I have to admit I'm impressed."

* * *

Parties really aren't my scene, but it's New Year's Eve. One of my closest friends from Fletcher invited me, and, well, Sam wanted to go. I don't really mind, since I haven't seen any of them since, well... Since when Derek took me to Toronto. I forgot how much I missed it all. Actually, that's a lie. I haven't forgotten any of it. It's hard to forget when I miss that life every day. Sam's off in the bathroom because he ate something funny and wasn't looking too well. Surprisingly enough, I am not just sitting by the food table, looking like a wallflower. This party is actually a lot of fun. I just wish Sam was feeling well enough to enjoy it properly.

It was approximately eleven when Derek waltzed in. I don't even know how he got here. I thought he was going to about fifty other parties. Out of all the parties in the country, he walks into mine. I realize how incredibly Casablanca that makes it sound... But, I mean, come on, you would think! We don't really have any mutual friends, so it defies logic. Not that anything about Derek is logical. Gah. I so did not want to see Derek. Naturally, once I saw him practically flip his hair, I whirled around and started walking in the other direction. I suddenly needed some air.

I stepped outside and on to the porch, acutely feeling the cold of Canadian winters. I'd left my jacket inside, but it was too late to go back in and get it. Besides, I thought with a shudder that was maybe less from the cold than I had previously thought, Derek was still in there. He knew Sam and me were going to that party, damn him. He knew. So he decided that he needed to follow me like some overbearing chaperone who would bogart my date and completely ruin the night for me. I hated how Sam always picked Derek over me- at least outwardly, anyways. What mattered was that I had his heart, a place which even Derek couldn't touch. I smiled satisfactorily at that small victory, shivering in my green tulle dress.

Why, oh why had I been stupid enough to wear something so thin and so flimsy? I pulled the spaghetti straps up for the millionth time, feeling very frustrated. Still, it was nice to breathe fresh, crisp air. The air wasn't like this back home. Derek was always stinking it up. Or Edwin or Marti or George. One of those Venturi barbarians, at any rate. I made a face at the thought, which unfortunately reminded me of a conversation I'd had earlier that day with Lizzie. I wrapped my arms around me, feeling uncomfortable with the mere thought of that forbidden conversation.

Since I'm her big sister, Lizzie frequently comes to me for advice. She's been coming to me lately for more girly stuff... You know, asking about make-up and boys and dating, leafing through Seventeen and CosmoGirl with me. Let me tell you, those publications have some articles that are quite inappropriate for a ten-year-old to read! Anyways, Lizzie came to me looking quite distraught. The poor dear looked like she hadn't slept in days, and she was still all sweaty from soccer practice. She just barged into my room, not unlike Derek, without knocking, of course. She looked around rather furtively and then shut and locked the door behind her. Naturally, I was immediately alarmed. Was something wrong? What did Lizzie have in mind? "Lizzie... Is something wrong?" I asked worriedly, glancing up from my book.

I found a particular irony to the situation, since I was in the middle of reading Pride and Prejudice, my new favorite book. Thanks to her I still haven't finished it, you know. I only got halfway through, and she interrupted at a such a good part! Lizzie nodded, looking quite downtrodden. Since my baby sister seemed to be in such emotional distress, I set my book down, marking the page. I got up, walking over to her slowly, and I put my arms around her in a wordless hug. Even though Lizzie smelled vaguely like freshly mowed grass, snow, mud, sweat, and a vague hint of blood. Lizzie, however, did not relish the support. She almost immediately pushed me away, shaking her head firmly. That's when I knew, as all sisters do. "It's about a boy, isn't it?" I questioned rhetorically, already knowing my answer to be true.

Lizzie nodded very seriously. I bade her to sit down, and she did in the chair at my desk. I sat primly on the edge of my bed, waiting for her to tell me. However, Lizzie seemed oddly withdrawn, and she did not volunteer information. I found this strange as Lizzie normally told me everything. Here was an opportunity when I wasn't complaining to her, and she obviously had a problem, yet she couldn't speak. Something fishy was afoot. "Come on, Liz... You can tell me. Just start from the beginning. What's the problem with you and this boy?" I stated encouragingly, hoping I would soon get her to open up to me. Lizzie bit her lip, though, and still looked a bit reluctant. I was puzzled as to why, but I gracefully said nothing.

I did, however, send Lizzie a questioning glance. Lizzie sighed and looked rather frustrated. Maybe she was just tired. Either way, she eventually looked back up at me and spoke slowly, as if she were afraid. "I don't want you to judge me, Casey," Lizzie said warily, sizing me up. I have to admit that I was offended by her remark. Why on Earth would she think I would judge her? I'm her sister, after all, and I only want the best for her. I didn't see any possible judgment coming, so I merely shrugged, assuring her that I wouldn't judge her. Lizzie, however, still seemed gun-shy. I wondered why. What was so terrible about this boy that she thought I'd disapprove of? This of course meant that there was something about him that I'd disapprove of. I gulped nervously, but Lizzie didn't notice. I was beginning to worry.

Amazingly enough, Lizzie relaxed a little, loosening her lips. She leaned back against the chair wearily, as if she was tired of liking this boy. "Okay... So I kind of like this guy," Lizzie began awkwardly, gazing straight up at the ceiling. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her. Way to state the obvious. Lizzie paused briefly, glancing at me for an instant before resuming her gaze. She licked her lips, which were dry, chapped, and white from the cold. "And we're basically best friends. We're really close, and we hang out all the time. But I want something more, obviously. But I can't do anything about it because I don't know how he feels, and I value our friendship too much to do anything to jeopardize it," Lizzie detailed honestly, sounding just a bit frustrated. I smiled wryly, thinking that the boy must be oblivious. It was so cute.

Ah, the thrills of middle-school dating. For a moment, I tried to piece together just which friend she was talking about. I didn't recall Lizzie having any male friends to speak of. Then Lizzie looked at me, straight at me, right in the eyes. "What if he thinks of me as a sister, Casey?" She implored almost desperately. She said it like that was her greatest fear. No girl wants to be seen as a little sister. I wondered what I could say to her to dispel her fears. But I didn't know the guy, nor did I have any idea of how he must feel. I weighed the value of a close friendship with the value of a relationships, and I found myself with the same dilemma as Lizzie. I too would choose the easy friendship.

I tried and failed to think of something articulate and helpful to say. I almost decided to tell her to chance it, but that advice could easily backfire, couldn't it? So I did the only thing I could. I asked for a name. "Do I know this boy? What's his name?" I pondered curiously, casually. I hadn't made a big deal of it, and Lizzie totally didn't have to answer if she didn't want to... Lizzie turned absolutely white at the suggestion and seemed close to fainting away. I wrote that off as weariness, noting how weak it sounded. Then Lizzie nodded very, very slowly for one long, terrifying moment.

I should've known from the start exactly who she was talking about. But I overlooked the obvious. Lizzie swallowed hard and looked down as if ashamed, which I suppose she was. Then she quietly mumbled the name of the boy she admired. I, of course, did not hear it. So I made her repeat it, but that was still too quiet. Then I made her repeat it one more time, and it was finally loud enough for human ears. "Edwin," She squeaked, unable to even look at me for a second. At first, I thought I'd misheard her, but then she repeated his name, louder this time. And I knew. History was repeating itself in a sickening way.

Naturally, I was not amused. Hell, I was pissed off. I immediately leaped up from my seat, seething with rage. It was cruel of me to direct it at Lizzie, and it probably had more to do with the fact that it reminded me of Derek's foolish love for me. I was disgusted at the mere thought. Besides, Lizzie was still so young with her whole life ahead of her. She shouldn't waste it on some stupid Venturi boy. While Edwin was not Derek, he still had half the same genes in him. And that made him only marginally better than Derek. "WHAT!?" I screeched so loudly I was glad the house was empty. Lizzie cowered in fear as she should've; I was red in the face and absolutely furious. "How dare you!" I gasped, feeling betrayed by my own blood. If Mother and Lizzie both fell for it...

I immediately banished the frustrating thought, growing ever more enraged by the minute. Lizzie shivered, looking up at me with big, childish eyes. But I had no sympathy for her. "How could you _be_ so **stupid**, Liz? We McDonalds are above such idiocy! He's your _freaking_ stepbrother, Lizzie! Your **stepbrother**. You should know better. Tell me why; why out of **all** the boys at school did you have to pick him? He's _certainly_ not the only human with a **Y-chromosome** that talks to you!" I snapped venemously, guilting Lizzie as best as I could. I had all the weapons at my command, and I had to use them to make Lizzie see the error of her ways. Liking a Venturi was a foolish idea in and of itself, but liking one's stepbrother was simply idiotic!

Lizzie stiffened at my comments, sitting up straight in the chair. Unbelievably, the resentful girl glowered at me. I was only trying to help her. Didn't she see that? What did she see in Edwin anyways? What could be so great about him that she'd be willing to risk everything, even the health of this family and Mom's happiness, to have him? Ewww. Lizzie's eyes were hard, resolved and resolute. Sickeningly, she reminded me of Derek in that way. Derek, however, was incorrigible. Lizzie, on the other hand, was my little sister. I could manipulate her, force her hand, make her change her mind. It would be hard, but I would do it. For her own good. It took her so long to answer the question I was beginning to wonder if she was merely joking with me. "You don't understand, Casey. He's the nicest boy I've ever met. He understands me in ways that even you can't. He makes me laugh. We're interested in the same things. He's my best friend, my partner in crime. But most of all... He _listens_," Lizzie replied softly, with a quiet intensity.

I hated how she was right. She made Edwin sound like a wonderful guy. And I suppose maybe he is. I have nothing against him personally. He's really been quite cooperative in comparison to his other siblings, and he is wonderfully nice to Lizzie. Too nice, perhaps... They had been awful chummy. But her words stung. How could Edwin understand her in ways I couldn't? I was her sister, and I'd grown up with her. I was there the day she was born, and I've been there ever since. She comes to me for advice, doesn't she? I understand her. I know what she's all about. And who says I don't listen? I vowed silently to be a better sister, to listen more and better... As long as it kept her away from Edwin's arms.

I refuse to let my sister ruin her life. All of that was well and good, but not a real reason to like someone. They're just friends, and I'd convince her of that. I was going to reassure her that Edwin would never, ever like her or even view her in a romantic light. I knew Edwin did, though... I'd always thought something was a little off with the way he peered at her sideways. They were too close and now I had to separate them. But at least she came to me, not Derek. Lizzie doesn't want support. She _wants_ to be talked out of it, and I'm not going to disappoint her. My eyes flashed as I began pacing angrily. "Lizzie, stop this foolishness! Edwin is **family**. He is your _brother_, first and foremost. Think of the example pursuing him would set for Marti. She would probably try going after Derek or some equally disgusting perversion. We are **not** the Brady Bunch, _Marcia_, so stop trying to mess around with **Greg**," I hissed vehemently, staring Lizzie down. I didn't want to have to get violent, but if she continued being so insolent and unresponsive, I would have to knock the sense back into her.

Alas, if only I were a preacher, that I might knock the fear of God into her! Lizzie was irritated. She actually rolled her eyes at me. "_Please_," She scoffed, giving me a dirty look, "Get it right. You're Marcia, and Derek's Greg." Then she started muttering under her breath about how people shouldn't do analogies if they can't even get them correct. Needless to say, that little incident pissed me off. Nowhere in this conversation was there room for Derek. And I certainly did not want to have to mention him anyways. He only harmed my case, of course, which is why Lizzie made that casual mention, to see if she could get away with it. Well, she can't. I won't let her.

I stopped pacing to grab her by the shoulders and shake her once, hard enough that her teeth rattled. "Get a **hold** of yourself, Lizzie! There are other boys out there. Ones that are not your stepbrother. So pick one of them and save yourself the trouble of wanting someone you can't have," I pleaded logically, at first appealing to her emotions. Then my eyes narrowed and the conversation took on a decidedly malicious tone. I'll admit that my arguments were illogical, but Lizzie was ten and scared. She wouldn't care or notice. I was going to reach her. "Unless you **want** messed up children, Lizzie. And how on Earth would you explain that to them? Oh, yes, you're mentally incapacitated because Mommy had to go _screw_ her brother, your **daddy**!" I shouted virulently, bringing children into it. After all, I knew Lizzie wanted kids.

Lizzie looked slightly shaken and worried by this, but said nothing. She stayed absolutely silent, looking more lost as time went by. I hated to do this to her, but she needed to learn. "Incest is a **crime**, Lizzie, did you know that? You or Edwin could go to jail for it. And by being selfish enough to even pursue a relationship with him, why, you could _break_ up this very family! What would Mom and George say, huh? You're _lucky_ you came to me about this instead of them because I **guarantee** you, they would ship you off to boarding school faster than you can say stepbrother! They would _not_ approve, Liz, because it is **wrong** to have feelings for your stepbrother," I said frostily, trying to make myself the good guy by not telling them. I wondered for a brief moment just how Mom and George would really react anyways, but I pushed it aside.

Lizzie glared at me fiercely, shaking her head. How dare she disagree! I was trying to help her. She needed to see that. This would be better for her in the long run. "Oh, so it's okay for you to _make_ _out_ with Derek in the hallway, but not for me to like Edwin? Way to be a hypocrite, Case!" Lizzie retorted furiously. She was obviously fed up with my insults, but I had to persist. Plus, she had made the foolish mistake of bringing up Derek. Which meant that I was on the war path to defend myself.

I turned the full force of my glare on Lizzie, showing her I meant business. "I have no feelings whatsoever for Derek except loathing. He disgusts me. I do not want for Derek. What you saw was him _forcing_ himself on me, Lizzie. Otherwise, I assure you that I would have had no part in the foul, loathesome deed," I swore vehemently, hissing through my teeth. I was furious at the mere recollection of the violation. Derek is despicable, I'd thought. How I despised him! Lizzie's suspicious look slowly faded off her face, and I knew then that the moment was ripe. I sprung for the kill.

She was slowly starting to accept what I said as the absolute, supreme, overarching truth. And soon it would be engraved in her brain as fact. And then, surely, she would not like Edwin anymore. I felt victorious, sick with glee. I placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, despite the awful things I said next. "It's _sick_, Lizzie, the way you're feeling. Stop having feelings for Edwin, and there's no problem. I won't have to tell Mom or George. But if you keep pining after him and, Heaven _forbid_, try and make a move on him? I **swear** to you, Liz, I will tell them in an _instant_. You will be **dead** to me from that point on, and I will no longer _have_ a sister," I threatened boldly, making Lizzie's options very clear. Me or Edwin. I had no doubt that she would choose me. After all, liking Edwin was wrong, sick, and condemned by all sources. She wasn't going to find any support here.

Lizzie caved, then, just like I knew she would. It was good that she wasn't a dam. I don't think she'd last a day. However, I hated to see Lizzie looking so depressed. She was pouting (not on purpose) and her eyes were beginning to swell with tears. I wished it didn't have to be like this, but I knew it did, so I had no regrets. Lizzie shouldn't like her stepbrother. I was teaching her a valuable lesson. While I was sorry it had to hurt so much, it was a necessary evil. Still... Lizzie looked utterly miserable as she finally glanced up at me, falling to pieces. "Why do I have to stop liking him, Casey?" She asked, sounding weak and helpless, like a littler girl. It was strange to hear her like that, since Lizzie's always been so much stronger than I have. Lizzie, the brave athlete, determined worker, was breaking. I frowned and softly wiped away her tears, trying once again to endear myself to her. It would be much easier now that she saw it my way.

I patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, embracing her as only a sister could. I took her into my arms and let her cry. She didn't exactly know why she was crying, but then again, she hadn't realized how I had completely manipulated her either. Like cake, I tell you. "Because it's wrong. He's family and a friend, but not anything more. And Edwin... Honey, he's so _oblivious_ that he could **never** like you as more," I murmured softly, playing the sympathetic sister, making sure that she heard the last part. Her sobs got particularly louder afterwards, so I assumed she had. Brilliant. I really am too good at this. But I'm not being mean or anything. This is what's best for her. And I won't let my sister settle for second best. "The fleeting moment when you thought you liked him was a result of _hormones_ and close proximity. It has been scientifically proven that humans will be attracted to someone they see more often. You merely mistook _friendship_ for something deeper, Lizzie. It was an honest mistake, and I forgive you for it," I explained soothingly, scientifically so that she could understand it.

I suddenly understood what she meant about their interests. Both Lizzie and Edwin had a passion for science. Well... Her being a jock will surely work against that. Besides, Edwin's too smart to go after Lizzie. But still, I might have to have a talk with him. Although, really, would that do any good? I might just get him thinking about Lizzie, and we don't want that at all. Lizzie pulled back, and I smiled at her, wiping away the tears as best as I could. "Now stop crying," I ordered a bit too cheerfully, "It's really _silly_ to cry over Edwin, anyways. He's just a boy, and he doesn't deserve your tears." I was so casual about it. I shot Lizzie a reproachful look when she didn't immediately stop. Then I grinned. "Now, come on, Lizzie, **smile**. Yes, that's _good_..." I coaxed her almost teasingly, causing Lizzie to smile and then giggle. There. After a good cry, good as new. She won't even know what she's missing. "Now you go get cleaned up, and I'll take you out for some ice cream," I remarked brightly, shoving her into the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, I'd freshened up a bit and was waiting for Lizzie at the end of the hallway. Ironically enough, Edwin was tromping down the hallway at the exact same instant Lizzie stepped out of the bathroom. Thankfully for my sanity, Lizzie was fully clothed. Her skin was faintly pink, and her hair was damp, which was the only way you'd know that she had just come out of the shower. Unlike Derek and I, Lizzie and Edwin did not wind up falling on top of each other; they merely bumped heads. Lizzie pulled back immediately, sharply. Edwin looked at her strangely, concerned. To Lizzie's chagrin, he leaned in further, growing more concerned once he saw her red-rimmed, swollen eyes. Lizzie backed away nervously, clearly unnerved by his growing closeness. "Is something wrong, Lizzie?" He asked worriedly.

There was no doubt in my mind that Edwin liked Lizzie after that. Lizzie glanced down and away, a clear sign of avoidance. I couldn't help but notice her shoot a glance at me before doing so. "No, Ed... I'm fine," She replied calmly, obviously not meaning it. We McDonalds are terrible liars. She must get that from me. I sensed weakness in Lizzie, and I was right to do so. Edwin frowned at this answer and was about to say something when I jumped in.

I stalked down the hallway, plastering a fake smile unto my lips. "Hey, Lizzie, what about that ice cream? You ready to go, Kiddo?" I exclaimed cheerfully. Lizzie glanced up at me, a look of death on her face. She did not look at all thrilled by the prospect. In fact, she looked rather annoyed that I wouldn't even let her spend two seconds alone with Edwin. But I had to. Lizzie is strong, but I knew she would crack. She hasn't yet learned to stay fully away from Edwin yet. But she'll see... Eventually, even if I have to make her. Lizzie attempted to smile, but it was really more of a grimace.

I noticed that she glanced furtively at Edwin out of the corner of eye. I frowned at this, but Lizzie's eyes hardened. She nodded minutely. "Only if Edwin comes too," She stated assertively. Edwin looked at her and smiled softly, hopefully. I knew deep down in my soul that I had to quash this before it became something. It was suspiciously close to becoming something. And I needed to squash it, to kill it, to eliminate it. I looked at Lizzie like she was an alien, and I noticed an emotion I'd rarely seen in her. Anger. Lizzie was mad at me. Mad at me for protecting her. "We have to discuss our science project, Casey. You wouldn't stand in the way of _learning_, would you?" Lizzie insinuated tersely, completely serious.

It was one of the rare times in which Lizzie had ever stood up to me. Unfortunately, I'd found out that ever since we'd moved into the Venturi home, those times were becoming all the more frequent. Edwin had a curious, puzzled look on his face. Lizzie refused to back down. I noted the weakness, the softness for Edwin that her actions were betraying. It was almost her own little way of defying me. A passive-aggressive way, anyways. It seemed innocent, but I knew Lizzie was lying about the project. However, I figured that I might as well supervise. That way I could insure that nothing improper went on between them. I could stonewall all attempts at romance. Although neither Lizzie nor Edwin is the type to make such a forward move.

They're not Derek, after all. Thankfully. Although I am worried about Edwin... You never know.

But, back to the present... I was peacefully standing out there, mulling over the distressing circumstances of the burgeoning relationship between my sister and my stepbrother. Well, at least it wasn't Derek. That would be a thousand times worse. Then I think I'd have to deprogram poor Lizzie. Or teach her resistance techniques... if only I knew any techniques to resist Derek. I don't mean it like that. He's just... so persistent, you know? And he never quits until he gets what he wants.

Speaking of the Devil, guess who just walked out on to the porch?

Yes, that's right. Derek, the bane of my existance.

Joy. Speaking of which, do you know what he got me for Christmas? Lingerie. Skimpy lingerie that I would never, ever wear in a million years. Seriously. And when I confronted him, he just smirked and remarked, "Well, maybe I'll get to see you wear it." He was freaking _amused_ by it. Then again, that's Derek for you.

Of all the porches at all the parties on all the nights of the year, he had to walk on to mine. I didn't sigh despairingly as I wished to. Nor did I make a single sound to acknowledge Derek's presence. In fact, I silently planned to escape. Fortunately, Derek's back was to me, and he hadn't seen me yet. I could still make a break for it. I glanced at my watch, trying to time it just perfectly. That was my first mistake. I'm always trying too hard to have everything perfect. And everything can't always go perfect, case in point that dinner with Uncle Dennis. I still avoid thinking of that night, by the way.

So, on the count of three, I vaulted over the low balustrade on the porch. Unfortunately, my landing did not go as smoothly as planned. I am really not that much of a klutz. I mean, really, it only happens when Derek is around. I somehow landed flat on my back... Fortunately I landed on a squarish-roundish shrub, not the rosebush next to it. I was going to bounce right up when I noticed a very familiar, smirking face looking down at me. It was, of course, a very smug Derek. "Well, if it isn't my favorite step-sister..." He replied suggestively, looking me up and down, obviously liking what he saw. That was one of those things that had always unnerved me about Derek... no one else looked at me the way he did. No one, not even Sam, my boyfriend. Then again, Derek's a whore. Of course he looks at me like he wants to do me.

And who knows? He can probably see up or down my dress from this angle. I was practically spread-eagled, after all. I made a face at him, resenting being called his "favorite" step-sister. Derek was, however, holding out a hand to help me, and I could see no ulterior motives. So I took his hand anyways, against my better judgment. I squinted at him, half-scowling. "Derek," I stated, bored and glaring at him with all my might. "To what to I owe the pleasure?" I snapped sarcastically, making it clear that it was not a pleasure. Not that that would remotely influence how Derek saw it. Derek smirked and helped me up. Just when I was standing, on the edge of the porch, I had a sudden thought. Grinning rather maliciously myself, I clutched the rail with one hand and yanked on Derek's hand with the other. Then I abruptly let go and tore his hand from mine.

I sent him tumbling headfirst into the rosebush. And I'm glad I did. I have never heard a sound as sweet as Derek's cursing and moaning (in pain, of course!). It was so very... satisfying. Derek tried as best he could to sit up, but there were all those nasty thorns. Those nasty, wonderful, prickly thorns. He somehow managed to twist and sit up so he was facing me, cursing all the way. He glowered up at me spitefully, lip bloodied. I glared back at him, plastering myself against the railing for safety. Derek growled, extremely frustrated. "Casey, don't look at me like that!" He protested irritably. I did not listen to him. Derek sighed then, but it came out more like a hiss. "Oh, don't be so self-centered. I didn't come here because I knew you were here. I came here because it was the only party in a twenty mile radius that Kendra couldn't possibly be at," Derek mumbled shortly, scowl deepening.

I snorted, amused that Derek would go to such lengths to avoid an ex. It did, however, seem a bit farfetched, even for Derek. Not that Kendra was an especially nice ex or anything. Okay, so she was a bit... psycho. I contemplated it for a moment. If it was possible, his scowl actually deepened. "And then she showed up here, of all places!" Derek shouted furiously. He only wound up injuring himself. I started laughing hysterically. Derek rolled his eyes and somehow managed to thrust himself off of the rosebush. Naturally, he found a place right up against my skin, pressing against me, fingers clutching the railing. It was kind of awkward, considering Derek's head was right under my breasts. Not a comfortable position.

Now, I seriously thought that Derek was just kidding about Kendra. I thought it was pretty low to bring his ex into it, but I was completely wrong. I was completely wrong because only seconds later, Kendra burst through the door, and I immediately shoved Derek... hard. He fell back into the rosebush to my satisfaction. I grinned at the picture Derek made, swearing and fighting off a rosebush. Naturally, the spectacle drew a worried Kendra's attention. She rushed over to the railing like she thought she was the Juliet to his Romeo. She wasn't, by the way, but she was wearing this totally trashy, completely garish blue dress. A dress I knew very well that Derek would've loved. "Oh, Derry!" She screamed girlishly, grasping the balcony.

Derek and I both rolled our eyes at that. "I missed you so much, baby!" Kendra beamed widely, looking at Derek adoringly. "Now, Derry, you just come here and let me make it all better!" She offered flirtatiously, overjoyed to see Derek. She held out her arms for him to embrace. Derek, on the other hand, frowned and stayed put. He looked completely nonplussed.

"I'd rather take my chances with the rosebush, thanks," He muttered with a grim smile, trying to put her off. I snorted, suddenly appreciating Derek's cruel sense of humor. Kendra had been so... normal... before they started dating. It was a shame she'd sunk to such a low, pleading for Derek's affections like this. Kendra merely looked confused, like she couldn't understand why he was angry. Kendra pouted, impatiently stamping her foot on the ground. She was stupid if she thought that would get Derek's attention. That would only annoy him. Predictably, Derek didn't even look at her.

Kendra adopted a truly flashy appearance, flaunting all of her assets. Yet Derek remained aloof and unaffected. "Derek, come on... Don't you want to kiss me at midnight? I am your girlfriend after all," Kendra whined, sounding exactly like I had remembered. How many times had she whined and cried to me on the phone when Derek refused to take her calls? How many times had she dumped him anyways? Hell, now that I thought about it, I spent more time talking to her during their relationship than Derek did. And then it became apparent just how much she annoyed the both of us.

That girlfriend comment just about did it for Derek. I should explain that Kendra somehow happened upon the information that she was Derek's longest girlfriend. She assumed she meant something to him, which would've been true... a few months ago, maybe. But the boy had clearly moved on, and Kendra was blind if she couldn't see that. Derek immediately leaped up from the rosebush, not even wincing from the pain. His eyes were darker than usual, glinting threateningly as they narrowed. "Look, Kendra, I don't know who told you we were back together, but we aren't. We're over. For good," Derek stated plainly, loudly. If you ask me he couldn't have been more clear than that, but somehow Kendra didn't get it. I, of all people, know that there is no use talking sense with that girl. All the times I tried talking her out of liking him. Never worked.

Derek rolled his eyes at her as well the idiotic girl deserved. I lamented the loss of yet another rational girl to Derek's dubious charms. "Kendra, you were just a conquest," Derek drawled frostily, knowing just how cruel he was being. Kendra, bless her soul, started crying and shaking her head fiercely. It can't be true. That was what she was thinking. I shot Derek a dirty look. Even if he didn't want the girl, she didn't deserve to be crushed like that. Kendra didn't know Derek like I did. She thought he was this great guy, but that was a lie. Then Kendra started to shake and sob. I pitied her more and more. Derek was being such an ass.

Cruel Intentions, indeed, I thought, remembering the scene in which Sebastian broke up with Annette. This, however, seemed a little less forced and a lot less like he had any actual feelings for her whatsoever. Is that what I am, the Kathryn in this twisted triangle? I am not a slut. I... Then Kendra let out a mournful wail. "I **_love_** you, Derek!" Kendra cried painfully, nearly writhing in agony. Derek winced and backed away. Apparently Derek thought this was a bit much. I suddenly wanted to do nothing more than leave and get away from this awfully private public scene. It should've stayed private. I mean, honestly, how can Kendra maintain her dignity if Derek's not the only one to witness her breakdown?

Derek stiffened but straightened up a little. The look on his face was utterly sober, even though I knew he'd had at least two drinks already. He approached his psycho ex-girlfriend warily, as if afraid she'd explode at any minute. This was not a wholly unreasonable fear. Like he said, Derek Venturi does not do crying. Well, okay... He doesn't really do comforting. Whatever.

He did not hold out a hand or do anything that might possibly seem to be a welcoming gesture. In fact, a rather pained look crossed his face. He looked down for a moment, almost as if ashamed or embarrassed, two things Derek certainly never was. Then he looked up again, defiant. "I love someone else, Kendra. And she's not you," He murmured quietly but loud enough that she could hear it clearly. Kendra continued weeping profusely, flinging her arms everywhere like someone helpless. In fact, one of those swinging arms hit me! Right across the face, might I add... And it stung like a bitch.

No, as a fitting irony she did not knock me into the rosebush. I did, however, land face-first sprawled over the roundish hedge shrub sort of thing. Leaves taste terrible, by the way. In somehow managing to delicately extract myself from the leafy shrubbery, I wound up falling hard on the ground. I got a few scrapes from the ordeal, one particularly deep one on my forearm. I managed to get to my feet somehow and all of a sudden, I noticed Derek coming toward me. He grabbed my arm gently, somehow looking concerned. I was more surprised than Kendra. "Are you okay?" Derek asked with wide, slightly panicked brown eyes. "I love you" was written all across his face. My face burned, so I looked away, gave a curt nod, and jerked my arm out of his grip. In the background, Kendra made a noise of distress, so that both of us turned to look at her.

Derek fixed her with a fierce stare, furious that she still didn't get it. Or maybe, come to think of it, Derek was mad at her for hurting me. That, of course, was ridiculous. There was something eerily serious and awe-inspiring about his face. Then that look disappeared, and a mask of apathy covered his face. "Look, Kendra, I'm telling you this because I respect you as a person, and I think you deserve to know. Because you're not stupid, despite how you're acting right now. The truth is, Kendra, you're clingy. You didn't let me breathe. That's why we broke up," Derek said honestly, to the point of being blunt. It was an incredibly rude thing to say. Kendra had miraculously stopped crying. I guess she needed the honesty as some sort of closure.

Then Derek went too far. He sort of smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. I slowly began to walk away from him in hopes that I might escape this awkwardness. Derek, of course, had other plans. "Now, I'm in love with someone else. In fact, I'm in love with Casey right here. Yes, you heard me right. Casey, my stepsister," Derek declared boldly, causing me to freeze dead in my tracks. I whirled around, absolutely horrified. Derek told Kendra, his ex? Why on Earth would he tell her a fool thing like that? So she could hate me too? Is he trying to enact some sort of revenge on me? Kendra shot me a deathglare, scrunching up her nose, looking more jealous than she had ever looked with Emily.

I glowered at Derek, fingers itching to wrap around his throat and strangle him. Sometimes I just wanted to rip him to pieces and castrate him and... Well, I won't bore you with the details. Derek shot me a look, sighing heavily, and I couldn't help but notice that he looked just a little... sad. He immediately continued to meet Kendra's evil stare. "And she _hates_ me, Kendra. She's never encouraged my affections. She doesn't want a thing to do with me. If I died, she'd be happy that I wasn't around to bother her anymore. But I'd rather chase after her than be with you again, you got me?" Derek hissed, sounding uncharacteristically bitter and harsh... but mostly more vulnerable than I ever remembered, and he'd told me he loved me! Why was he baring his heart and soul to his ex-girlfriend like she'd understand?

From the look on her face, I could tell that Kendra didn't understand. Not that I could blame her. I didn't even understand! Kendra straightened up, wiping away her tears. She managed to sober up a little. Then she got bitter as all ex-girlfriends eventually do. What lousy timing this girl has. She glared at Derek like he'd murdered her whole family. "I'm gonna tell the whole school, Derek. I'll let everyone know just how sick you really are. You care so much about your popularity. Well, it'll all go down the drain, and you'll just be known as the **freak** who's in love with his stepsister!" Kendra threatened in a manner I would've admired, had Derek's source of embarrassment not been mine as well. Surprisingly, Derek wasn't alarmed by this.

He just stood there coolly, crossing his arms over his chest and taking it all. His eyes were surprisingly dead, and his face was even more devoid of emotion. It was like he didn't even care that she was going to expose his dirty little secret. "Tell the whole school if you want, Kendra. I don't care what people think about me. If this is the price I pay for telling you the truth, so be it. I probably deserve it," Derek admitted nonchalantly, a firm look in his eyes. He was actually prepared for her to go and do that. I gaped at Derek, awed. Not only does Derek admit wrongdoing, but he willingly accepts a punishment for something he shouldn't. It's not like it's his fault he doesn't love her or anything. Not that I mean to sound sympathetic or anything, but you just can make someone love you if they don't.

This, however, brought up a new, disturbing thought. Derek didn't care about popularity anymore? Or what people thought of him? Seriously, who is this guy and what has he done with Derek? I certainly don't know him. Then Derek leaned forward towards Kendra, placing a hand on top of hers. If I wasn't mistaken, his eyes actually took on a pleading look. "Look, Kendra... Do whatever you want to me. Just don't involve Casey in this. It's not her fault that I don't love you. She shouldn't have to suffer from association. You can make up whatever lie about me that you want. I'll even give you suggestions... You could say I'm lousy in bed or that I'm completely gay or that I can't get it up or that I'm small or that I'm into bondage and kinky stuff or that I'm an alcoholic or that I was in rehab or that I'm addicted to any drug you want or that I have a million STDs... Anything you want to ruin my image, to make me look bad," Derek suggested hopefully, making an even more surprising sacrifice, and for me, of all people! He looked Kendra deep in the eyes. "Just, please, don't do anything to Casey," He begged desperately, actually demeaning himself for me.

Kendra softened at the look in Derek's eyes. They all melt like butter before the chocolate brown puppy-dog eyes. She sighed, pursing her lips and debating it for a moment. "I won't tell," She said finally, meeting Derek's anxious eyes and nodding. Derek smiled a smile of genuine warmth, but it was mostly of thanks. Nothing else... No romantic longing. Then Kendra completely unnerved me by looking directly at me and smiling sadly. "You're a lucky girl, Casey, that a guy like Derek will want you... no matter how many times you push him away. He'll grow on you, I can tell," Kendra foretold, sounding oddly foreboding. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but, well, it was cold.

Midnight was drawing ever nearer, so I wanted to find Sam and just leave. So I dove back into the party headfirst (not unlike Derek and the rosebush), hunting for any word of Sam. A few people directed me towards the bathroom, but they told me he'd been in there a while, and it wouldn't be pretty. I had no idea just how unpretty it would be. Derek, unfortunately, was hot on my heels. He threw himself in front of the door right when I reached it. His eyes were wide, and he was panting slightly. "You don't want to go in there, Casey," Derek advised tersely, catching his breath. I rolled my eyes at him and shoved him aside.

"Derek, he's _my_ boyfriend, and I want to see him. Now go away and do whatever the hell it is you do at these things," I sniped furiously, pushing Derek away from me. Derek sighed, frowning, but he did as I asked and left anyways. I glanced after him for a moment, wondering what was so important that he'd lingered. But then I just turned around, shrugging it off, mentally writing it off as something nonimportant. Then I hesitantly knocked on the door. "Sam, are you in there? Feeling better?" I called with a slight tremor in my voice. Damn Derek for making me all... wary and weird. Damn him. Relax, Casey, I told myself; you have nothing to worry about. Or so I thought.

I heard a strange noise in the background that sounded vaguely like wretching, so I just figured that Sam was still overcoming a bout of food poisoning. I gave him a few minutes later and found myself quite anxious. I wasn't worried. I was just wondering whether he was okay or not. Even if he wasn't, I wanted to go in there with him and keep him company. No matter how bad it was. Ah, to imagine that only seconds later I'd be eating my words! I was his girlfriend, after all. I should have been in there nursing him back to health, but sufficient distractions like Derek and his ex kept me from my girlfriend duty. I felt all guilty, too... Like I hadn't been there for Sam. Like I was a crappy girlfriend. And I knew I was. A good girlfriend wouldn't let a guy like Derek dominate her life. And yet...

A few agonizing minutes later, I heard someone walking towards the door. I figured that it was Sam. "Yeah, Case... I'm here. And thanks, I'm feelin' much better," He drawled hoarsely, slightly breathless. Sam did not sound good. He sounded like he had a sore throat too... from all the vomiting, of course. I suddenly felt so awful for my poor little Sam. He was suffering so badly. I wished that somehow I could make him feel better. And then Sam said it. He invited me in. "But you know what would make me recover completely?" He rasped with a low, amused chuckle, "You comin' in here." When I look back on it now, all of my thoughts on this conversation and the conversation itself are particularly ironic. You see, now this is the part where you, the reader, realizes that there's something wrong, but I don't. Dramatic irony's a bitch, isn't it?

It really is, as I'm about to find out. I merely smiled, completely enthused, and pushed the door open slowly. I have never regretted a decision more, I assure you. Because when I opened that door... Well, how do I put this while still remaining a lady? I don't suppose there is a polite way to put this. Basically, my boyfriend was by the toilet. That was just about the only thing that was normal or even remotely like what I'd expected opening the door. Actually, Sam was sitting on top of the toilet, sans hat, head thrown back... in pleasure. Disgusting, filthy, perverted pleasure. A trampy blonde was sitting on the edge of the sink, panties around her ankles. Sam's hand was so far up her skirt I couldn't see much of it, but it was between her legs. And it was kind of a no-brainer as to what he was doing.

Especially considering that the trampy blonde ho had smeared lipstick, and her shirt was half unbuttoned. I saw more of that one girl than I ever wanted to see. Of all the girls in the school, it was Cassy Trent, a.k.a. the biggest slut in the whole school. She's basically white trash. There are even rumors that she's a prostitute, which would not surprise me. Even Derek steers clear of her, if that says anything about where she ranks on the social totem pole. I mean, she's the easiest girl in school by far, but... What was it Derek said about her? "She's like a one-way trip to STD Alley, and I've already been there, done that, don't want to catch AIDS." He had sex with her when she was less of a whore apparently. So in some small part, Derek can be blamed for her corruption, I suppose. They call her "Back Alley Sally" or "Trashy Cassy". But what I'll never get out of my mind is the way she looked.

She was completely not self-conscious. Considering that I live with Derek, this is saying something. He's actually shy on the P.D.A., thank God, but Cassy... She could have sex with a whole camera crew in the room. Actually, she could have sex in front of the whole school, including teachers, but that's not the point. She wasn't really loud like most of Derek's girls. She was sort of giggly and breathy, but nonetheless, I wanted to punch her. She threw her head back, cackling in glee, mumbling Sam's name. She licked her lips as if savoring the flavor, which was probably Sam, like a common tramp. And then there's the most disgusting part, the way she thrust her pelvis against what I can only assume was Sam's hand. Again and again. It was disgusting, but that was not even the worst part.

The worst part was that his pants were undone. Actually, that's a lie. It gets worse still. The worst part was that there was a guy attached to my boyfriend's crotch. I really don't have to make it more graphic, now do I? Because seeing Sam's eyes rolling back in his head was graphic enough for me. I gasped immediately, stunned at the graphic sight before me. At this sound, Sam managed to collect his senses. Go freaking figure. Unbelievably, he actually grinned at me, extracting his hand from Cassy's skirt to wave at me. The hand was wet. I felt like retching but somehow managed to refrain. I did not close the door. I left it wide open because I didn't feel comfortable alone in a room with... these people! And Sam would've deserved to be seen like this anyways. I suddenly understood why Kendra had wanted to ruin Derek... only she hadn't caught Derek cheating on her or anything. And they weren't together anymore. But Sam had broken my trust, and thus... my heart.

I couldn't believe the nerve of him. I loved him and... all this time he'd... He'd been cheating on me. I couldn't believe it. And not just with another girl, but with a guy too. My boyfriend was every bit of the whore Derek had insinuated he was. In fact, Sam was even worse than Derek. At least Derek stuck to women. Hell, Sam didn't even have standards! What the hell had happened to him to make him this guy? Sam had been so... nice. There was no way to write this off as nothing; no excuse would be good enough. But still, I had to hear what he said. Then I realized that he'd invited me in. He wanted me to see this. Did he want to break up? I had to know. "Did you expect me to join in?" I snarled venemously.

Sam gave me a suggestive, proud look that seriously insinuated that he did. If it was possible, I was even more disgusted with him than I was before. The guy on my boyfriend suddenly pulled back, turning back to glance at me. I wound up seeing much more of Sam than I wanted. The guy frowned for a moment, rubbing his jaw as if he had a toothache. Only he didn't have a toothache. His eyes widened a bit as he took in the sight of me. I had more respect for him than the others, considering he was fully dressed, and I didn't recognize him. "This must be your girlfriend, then, huh, Sammy?" He replied darkly, spitting on the ground disgustedly. I noticed the guy glance me over, bemused. He shot Sam a dirty look. "It's a real shame she got you as a boyfriend. She's an awful pretty thing, isn't she? If I wasn't gay, I'd totally have sex with her," He remarked wryly, smiling at me.

Even though this guy had been all over my boyfriend, I liked him. For some reason. Sam, on the other hand, was pissed at his "friend" for some reason. He stood up abruptly and punched the poor guy in the stomach. "Don't talk about my girlfriend like that, you pansy!" He growled, defending my honor since in one fell swoop, he'd utterly lost all of his. I glowered at Sam. Sam's little friend didn't damage my honor. Sam did by cheating on me. With anything that he can stick himself in, apparently. I walked towards Sam, who smirked, looking mighty pleased to see me. Like he thought I might be coming back to him. Fat chance. I've put up with all of Sam's crap for too long.

It all fits, and I feel so freaking stupid for falling for it! The reason he was late for everything, why he never paid, why he didn't show up on my birthday... And I was just too dumb to see it! Instead, I blindsighted Sam with a hard slap across the face. I slapped him harder than I ever hit Derek. Then again, I don't think I've ever been this mad at someone, even including Derek. And remember, I tried to strangle Derek after we kissed for the first time. God. The first time. Listen to me. There shouldn't have been more than one time. "Don't bother defending my honor, Sam. You need all the honor you can get," I spat viciously, feeling a little vindicated.

Sam's buddy smiled at me. It was then that I noticed the resemblance. You see, Sam's little screw bunny or whatever... He had reddish-brown hair, longish like Derek's. However, this guy had pretty blue eyes. I might've actually been into him if I didn't know he was gay and hadn't caught him with my boyfriend. Then I pulled away from Sam so that he wouldn't get the wrong idea. I needed to know why. Why had Sam risked everything we had... Why had he made me come in here? "Why, Sam?" I asked more shakily than I intended.

Sam held his cheek, eyes flashing with anger. He glared at me like he'd caught me cheating on him. "Because you didn't give me any," He sniped accusingly. I stiffened reflexively, not wanting my nonexistent sex-life brought up in front of these people. Burning with embarrassment and rage, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to get back at him. Because I'd realized that Sam had never really cared about me. He'd never really pressured me for sex, and I'd made my views on that very clear. We were never even in a situation where such a thing was a possibility. If Sam had really cared, he wouldn't have done what he did. He would've waited. Sam had never loved me. Not like I loved him.

It wasn't fair, but that's life. I could've been like Kendra then, crying out "I love you" as an excuse and trying to get back with him. And if I had absolutely no self-respect left, that's what I would've done. But Sam had mistreated me for a long time, and I'd been in denial about it long enough. Who would've thought that Sam would've been the bad guy... that Derek was the one that really loved me. So I didn't tell Sam how I felt because I was beginning to think that maybe I didn't love him so much anymore. Whatever love I felt for Sam was either evaporating or wanting to be gone. How could I love someone I didn't know? Sam was not the sweet, caring guy I'd fallen in love with anymore. He was someone else entirely, someone who scared me more than Trevor ever had. "So you scraped the very bottom of the barrel for an orgy in a bathroom. Real _classy_, Sam," I bit furiously, laughing bitterly. I meant no insult to Sammy's boy or anything. I was referring to Trashy Cassy.

Sam flinched, surprised at my language, but said absolutely nothing. He stiffened a little, finally bothering to fasten up his pants. He did not look happy. In fact, he looked rather furious with me. Of all the nerve. I glared at him, regarding him coolly. He looked sloppy and sweaty, not at all like the man I'd come to love. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I ruin your orgasm?" I retorted sharply. Sam gave me a look that clearly stated that I did. But I didn't care. I merely sneered at him, suddenly glancing around and taking the surroundings into view. Trashy Cassy was still in the room, not at all affected by my presence. My eyes narrowed. "So how do you all have sex? Do you make a Samwich?" I questioned loudly, almost as if I was amused.

The other guy laughed and nodded. Cassy's face looked laschivious at the thought. I rolled my eyes. Sam did not look amused, but his face was just the slightest bit pink. His friend walked past me. "He thinks he's got it rough... At least he wasn't the one on bottom!" He remarked cheerily. Then he cast a glance back at Sam, sending him a decidedly dour look. "By the way, Sam... It's been great and all while it lasted, but I don't want to have sex with you anymore. You're all take and no give. Plus you suck, and not in a good way," He declared proudly. I couldn't wipe the smirk off my face. Aww, now his gay lover and his girlfriend are both gonna dump him on the same night.

Sam turned to me, desperate. "I'm not gay, you know," He breathed, panicky, sounding insecure. I rolled my eyes at him, not believing a word. Not that I believed him anyways. I wasn't ever going to believe a word he said anyways. Sure, Sam. Yeah right. Sam's ex-boy rolled his eyes too. He obviously knew that wasn't true. He was on the verge of making a crude comment in response to Sam's remark when he saw me and stopped dead in his tracks.

Okay. So I was just going to have to make the snide comment. Great. I nodded slowly, and relief began to wash over Sam's face. He really thinks he's getting off that easily. "Oh, really? Then why do you have semen all over your lips?" I pondered, feigning interest. Truthfully, I didn't even know if he had semen all over his mouth. His lips were sorta glossy, though. But I figured that if he had done something, he would betray himself. And he did. He wiped at his lips, flushing a rosy red. That was the last, last straw for me. I was sickened and didn't even want to be in his presence anymore. I scowled then. "We're over, Sam. For good this time. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole now. In fact, I'd rather have sex with _Derek_ than with you!" I screamed dramatically, making sure that my loathing came out a little more with every word.

Sam made a face, but I stopped him from saying anything. I could see the disdain and suspicion written in his eyes. Like he was one to talk. My relationship with Derek was none of his business. Not that I had one anyways. But I meant that. I would rather have sex with Derek than with Sam. I'd be less likely to get a disease that way. I swear to you, I will never have sex with Sam. Not after this. I won't even touch him again. He's dead to me. "Don't look at me like that, Sam. I'm not the one who blows guys just because they look like Derek," I snapped bitterly, smirk affixed to my face even though I was not happy. Then I whirled around, leaving before Sam could say anything. I knew I was right.

Sam's ex-boy-toy followed me out the door. Respectfully, he refrained from touching me. He looked a bit curious. "Sam always did have trouble remembering my name," He muttered somewhat curiously. I smiled somewhat weakly and politely refrained from saying that it was probably because Sam was having sex with everyone, for all I know. Except me. And Derek, because he didn't even like Sam... and for good reason, I saw. I cursed internally. A part of me wished I had listened to Derek and not gone in... Not known what my boyfriend was. But if I had... Then I wouldn't know that he was a whore. I would let his dirty hands touch me, wander... And who knows, maybe he would've convinced me to have sex with him, and I'd have gotten an STD and died. So, all in all, it's better I know, isn't it? Even if it doesn't feel like it.

The guy I was walking with turned to me, almost offering a hand for me to shake. But then of course he remembered what I walked in on, flushed accordingly, and thought the better of such an action. He smiled awkwardly, as brightly as one could in the situation. "I'm Dean, by the way," He said by way of an introduction. Unbelievably, this guy had a first name that started with D. Maybe Sammy did it on purpose then. I smiled at him, glancing around the party for Derek. I didn't see him anywhere, though. I asked around, and they all said Derek had left. So Dean just declared that he had to meet this Derek he'd heard so much about, and that he couldn't let a pretty young thing like me walk home all alone.

It had gotten very hot and very cold outside. So cold it was almost snowing. My watch said that it was close to midnight. The New Year was only a few minutes away. Guess I wouldn't be able to kiss Sam at midnight after all. The thought pained me, but I knew it was for the best. I sighed then and allowed Dean to wrap his arm around me. We were walking outside, around the front of the house, headed down the street, when I saw Derek. He was sitting in this gazebo alone save for a bottle of really cheap champagne to ring in the New Year. This surprised me, for Derek was anything but anti-social. He smiled and stood when he saw me.

I sped up my pace a little bit, and I saw Derek frown at me... Obviously, he'd seen Dean. He looked none too amused, nor did he look surprised. Had he known what I would find behind that door? That I would be broken up with Sam? Derek walked all the way over to the stairs to greet me. His hair was touseled; his skin scratched up by the thorns. There was a rose petal or two in his hair for dramatic effect. A few moments later, we reached Derek. He smiled at the fact that I was wearing the necklace he'd given me. Oddly enough, no one had asked about it. They merely accepted it was there, said it looked nice.

Derek smirked at me, and I instinctively shrugged Dean's arm off my shoulder. "So I guess you won't be kissing Sammy at midnight, then," He remarked softly, just stating it, not rubbing my face in it. Dean and I both nodded to that one. I sighed, unhappy at the mere thought of it. Then Derek fixed his gaze on the guy next to me. "Case, who's the lucky guy?" He asked bluntly, jerking his head towards Dean. I felt tears forming in my eyes, but I blinked them back, forcing a smile.

Thankfully, Dean took over from there. "Dean Thomas. And I'm hopelessly gay, so you can call off the death squad. I was just walking Casey here home since she dumped Sam's lazy, lying ass," He exclaimed quite enthusiastically, holding out a hand for Derek to shake. He reinforced his statement by checking Derek out so blatantly it made me blush. Derek didn't care. His wish had just come true. Derek actually grinned widely at the revelation, shaking Dean's hand with vigor. I should've warned Derek against it, considering that I honestly had no idea where that hand had been (although it was a safe wager that it had not been beneath the folds of Trashy Cassy's skirt). Derek was smiling dazzingly, wider than I had ever seen him.

He released Dean's hand, moving over towards me. "Derek Venturi. Casey's stepbrother," He mumbled distractedly, over his shoulder. Dean shot me an amused look, surprised that this was the Derek he'd heard so much about. He also might've been surprised that Derek was my stepbrother. Yeah... So was I.

Derek picked up something from the edge of the gazebo, holding it behind his back before I could get a glimpse of whatever the item was. He walked down the steps towards me, grabbing my wrist softly with the arm that wasn't behind his back. He peered down at my watch. 11:59, I noticed worriedly. Derek licked his lips, leaning towards me. I was terrified, and I didn't want to kiss him. Then Derek pulled the arm out from behind his back. He was holding one red rose he'd obviously stolen from the rosebush that had injured him. It was corny, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was there, and it was midnight.

I grabbed Derek by the lapels of his jacket, roughly planting his lips on mine. I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him bruisingly. The clock struck midnight somewhere off in the distance, and I pulled away from Derek, panting and stunned by what I'd just done. Derek looked at me with those dark, dangerous eyes, still half-closed from the first kiss. And then he exhaled deeply and crushed his lips against mine, hands wrapping around my waist, pulling me towards him. I felt the hot tears trailing down my face then, and I found myself crying for the first time in a long, long time. I hadn't cried back there when I'd seen Sam screwing around on me, but it had suddenly sunk in, now that I stood there, perched awkwardly on the stairs of the gazebo, kissing Derek. Something I swore I would never voluntarily do.

There wasn't much of anything to stop me now that Sam was gone, save our parents' wedding bands... And even that hadn't stopped Derek. The tears streamed down my face, but I kept kissing Derek, clinging to Derek... Holding on to his lapels like he was a lifeline. I didn't know what would happen if I let go. But eventually I did, and I started walking, Derek on my heels. Eventually, we were side by side.

We didn't say a word to each other all the way home, and Derek didn't try and touch me again.

But I held that rose Derek had given me in my hand so hard that my palm bled from the thorns... And I cried all the way home.

They say that the way you spend the first moments of the New Year sets the tone for the whole year. So what does that say about me? Does it say that I'll be helpless and with Derek for the rest of the year?

Happy New Year, Casey.

Loren ;

Reviews are highly appreciated!


	17. Feel It

In case anyone's wondering... No, last chapter was not the end of the fic. Nor have I abandoned this fic. I shall explain in the paragraph below the delay that has caused you to perhaps think that. When I finish this story (and I do, indeed, intend to finish it... have it all mapped out and everything), I will personally change its status to Complete. Note: The preceding chapter is also not the end, although I will say that it is something a lot of you have been waiting for (Derek included).

Okay, so first of all, I apologize for the long delay in getting this chapter out. I'm really bad about that. Admittedly, I kind of put it off at times, as I am a procrastinator by nature, but I did have genuine issues like the computer troubles mentioned in my profile, the occasional writer's block (how I shudder to mention the word), and prior obligations such as school. In addition, you are receiving this fresh off a weeklong trip to see colleges. I'm just a bit exhausted, but I wanted to get this up for you guys tonight. So here. ;)

Finally, a very important note (which means I might get a bit irritated (incidentally, if I sound a bit irked while writing this note, it's because I'm hungry, have a headache, and have been made slightly insane) if someone fails to remember this or read it in my profile)... I'm leaving at the end of the month to go to Paris. I will be in Paris for five weeks. So don't expect an update for at least a month. Since I am not bringing my laptop, which is incidentally still in the shop, and will have classes and such... I probably will be physically unable to post, if I am able to write at all. I seriously hope I will have enough time to write, even if it is done in email, because I love writing. I could _maybe_ get an update done by the end of the month but don't count on it.

Now, Derek is all over the place in this chapter, I warn you. I kinda don't like it at times. He struggles, he wavers, he's kinda wishy-washy... And, I dunno, who's the winner here, Derek or Casey? Which one of them has really given in?

So, without further ado, here's the chapter.

Casey cries. "Waaaaah!"

Derek loves her. He comforts Casey. "Casey..."

Casey loves Derek now, not Sam. Sam is stupid. "Derek, I..." Casey kisses Derek. (Muah)

Derek falls for it. "Yes."

They love each other. They procreate together, oh, happy day!

...And then they all lived happily ever after.

Just kidding! Here's hoping no one fell for that. You really think I would stiff you by giving you a chapter that short? Do I look like Hemingway? Lol. Nah, really, I have this thing; since it usually takes me so damn long to update, I have to give my readers at least ten pages. I feel bad if I don't because my other story is like, 5 times as long. A typical chapter for that fic is like, 30 pages... sometimes more. Another fic is almost as long as this one, and it's only four chapters long. So 10 pages is understandably not that long to me, and I kinda wish this chapter was longer because it's so pivotal.

I don't own Life with Derek or even this computer. Nor do I profess to. Hope you enjoy the story, though... The plot's all mine! Enjoy!

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My heart says one thing, but my head says another! And now I sound like a cheesy love song!

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Casey was still crying when we got home. I hated not being able to do anything about it. I don't do crying, but really I just don't know what to say when I see it. I don't cry, period. Not even after a hockey injury. In fact, I don't think I've cried since... I guess since my mom died. But I couldn't do anything, so I just tried to wrap my arm around her or something. She shoved me away fiercely for someone sobbing so hard.

I guess I still can't believe it. Like it has to sink in or something. This whole night has just gone so much differently than I thought it would. I thought I was gonna go to some party, get wasted, and find a pretty girl to sleep with. That's what I normally do, the hotter the better. It's not like I wasn't expecting it to happen- the thing with Sam, not Casey kissing me. Nothing could've prepared me for that surprise. It's hard to have hope all the time when she just keeps rubbing my face in it, and in spite of myself, I was beginning to despair. Not fall to pieces or anything... Just, you know, almost actually accept reality for once.

I knew Sam was cheating, and I tried to tell her. She never listens to me, but I'd know better than anyone else. They would've broken up eventually, but they broke up tonight. And maybe that means something. I know it had absolutely nothing to do with me, given the way Casey's been ignoring me. That kiss really came out of left field. Honestly, I'm pretty sure it's the first time she's really kissed me willingly, knowing who I am. Kind of intense, huh?

You know, I can't even remember the last time I was this happy. Sam and Casey are through... broken up for good. Casey can be exclusively mine now. But it's wrong to be happy when she's so miserable. Even though I wish she'd get her head far enough out of her ass to see that Sam was never worth even a second of her time.

She told me what happened, you know. How she caught Sam with Trashy Cassy (dirty pool, buddy) and that guy, Dean. Basically gave me the blow by blow account. Why was she walking home with that guy, though, if she'd caught him with Sam? It doesn't compute. Oh, what the hell ever. It doesn't even matter. What matters is that she's here and she's hurting.

And, for some completely bizarre reason, I felt it was my intrinsic duty to do something like that. Which is ridiculous because I am not that guy. I laugh at that sort of guy. I am usually the reason for those tears, not the one who has to clean them all up. And you know what? I'm wholly comfortable being that guy, being a total jackass. It's against my nature to be anything else, let alone a man with feelings and emotions. I am many things, but I am not ashamed, and I am most certainly not a sap.

Yet I went to Casey anyways. Dad and Nora were down in the basement, asleep already. I checked in on the little monster, and she was asleep (having, no doubt, fallen asleep even before our parents). It was like something called me to her presence. I'd say she needed me, almost, if I didn't know that was a lie. Maybe she just needed somebody. When I walked in her room, Casey was utterly silent. She was just leaning against her headboard, staring into space. She looked half-catatonic. Her eyes were dry, utterly devoid of tears. She merely sat there, didn't even sniffle. She almost didn't even look sad, actually.

Only I knew she was. She was absolutely miserable. I could practically smell it on her. It seemed like such a pity. Sam wasn't worth this. He wasn't really worth much anyways... as a friend or as a boyfriend. You know, I'm not going to be able to speak to him for this atrocity. Because Sam knows I'd spread word around school, and then everybody would ostracize him. And how would he get any action then? What girl in her right mind would go near him then? Not. Even. A. Freshman. I could ruin him for what he did to Casey, but she wouldn't like that. She's so humiliated that she doesn't even want to think about it. Not that I'll speak to him anyways.

He hurt my sister. This time I have a legitimate excuse. Plus, it's not like he was a stellar conversationalist anyways. And I sure didn't keep him around because he's an excellent hockey player. He's decent at best, downright awful after breaking up with Casey. That means my dream has come true. I don't have to waste any more of my precious time feigning pleasantries with the loser. Is it bad that I'm relieved?

Her eyes were a little bit puffy, and slightly bloodshot. That and the tissues in her trashcan were the only way you could tell she'd been crying. She didn't say a single word. That was the weirdest part of all. She didn't even make a feeble protest. Normally Casey would've shouted at me to get out at the top of her lungs. Then she would've forced me out of her room physically. Only now she hadn't even budged. It was like I wasn't even there. And you know how much I hate it when people ignore me.

I made a conscious effort to be nice to Casey. After all, she'd kissed me at midnight, hadn't she? That had to mean something. Plus, she caught her boyfriend in the act. Even I'm not a big enough jerk to rub that in her face. Still, I was left with the unsettling feeling of not quite knowing what to say. I don't do distress either. I had no idea what to do. It wasn't like I ever stuck around to comfort any of the many girls I had dumped. I walked tentatively over to Casey. "How you holding up?" I asked quietly, biting my lip.

Though her face was devoid of expression, and there was absolutely nothing threatening about her... I was wary of her. She was angry, I knew, somewhere deep down under that blank facade. And since she can't yell at Sam and doesn't even want to talk to him, she'll just take out all of her frustration on me like she always does. I think Casey sees me as a manifestation of all the confusion and chaos and general disorder in her life, so she gets mad at me a lot more than she should. As the main force of entropy in her life, I must be destroyed and broken... Casey picks the stupidest battles sometimes. I'm not the only thing she's mad at. Still, I was used to taking my anger out a lot, and Casey just got so hot when I pissed her off. I steeled myself for the eventual outburst. It would come, I was sure; she would strike suddenly and without warning, like a rattlesnake.

At first, Casey just ignored my question. Maybe she hadn't heard it at all or was just so dazed that it didn't register. Minutes passed without a word. I was beginning to contemplate going back to my room when she spoke. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy from either the sobs or disuse. "As well as can be expected," She said in a hollow voice. Her voice was devoid of any of Casey's characteristic emotion. That's one thing about Casey; you can always tell how she's feeling by her voice. There's always an underlying emotion there. Casey kept staring ahead. I nodded dully. Maybe she just wanted to be alone. Maybe I should just go and give her space.

Damn. I really wished I'd woken Nora up anyways. Casey didn't want to do that, though. She said she felt pathetic enough anyways, and that she was tired and would explain it to her in the morning. She told me she could hold up until then. Funny, isn't it, how I don't believe her. "Why did he do it, Derek?" Casey asked in a quiet, contained voice. I could've sworn I heard her tone waver, but she got it back under control briskly. That is the question, isn't it? I wish I had an answer for her, but I don't. Not really. I can't delve into Sam's motives... only my own.

I didn't answer, but Casey didn't look at me. She seemed, however, to get angrier. She stiffened just a little, and her expression became just a little more pinched. "I wasn't a bad girlfriend. I loved him. I treated him right. But it wasn't **enough**, was it?" Casey said numbly, sounding progressively more hysterical as she went on. What could I say to that? I didn't even understand it. That would've been enough for me. Well, with Casey, anyways. Okay, Casey is a bit moody and melodramatic, but why not just dump her? Or, if he was going to cheat on her, why on Earth did he pick the biggest slut in school? I almost said one thing, but I bit my tongue. I was going to say "You're not a man", but I figured it wouldn't be much appreciated.

I tried to shrug, but Casey grew even angrier. She turned to me abruptly, locking gazes with me. "Come on, Derek... You, of all people, can tell me what's so _**wrong**_ with me! What is it, then, huh? The grade-grubbing, the klutziness, my opinions, the way I act... the way I keep _obsessing_ over you?" Casey urged furiously, eyes blazing with intensity. I hadn't seen her eyes burn that brightly all night. I couldn't answer her. "What did I do that made him run to someone else, Derek?! What am I not doing right? _Tell_ me, Derek... Tell me so I can **fix** it and make sure that this never happens again!" Casey demanded vehemently. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hands had turned into fists. She was on the verge of tears, but she held them back fiercely.

I was thinking over what she said because she obviously wanted an answer. Aside from the callous but obvious answer of "you didn't put out", there wasn't really anything I could say. Then there was the fact that Sam was an asshole and an idiot anyways. He took her for granted. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too, or, rather, he wanted to have a perfect, virginal girlfriend, and get laid on the side. But of course, I couldn't really say that either because she was like, still in love with him. Fact is... he never deserved Casey anyways. Still, I was stuck on one point. _The way I keep obsessing over you_? What the HELL did that mean? Does that mean she thinks about me a lot or has feelings for me or... what does that really mean, anyways? I can't imagine she and Sam talked about me a lot.

That's another one of those things that I can't say.

So what do you say to a girl who's had her heart broken? Much less to a girl you yourself love?

"You didn't do anything wrong, Casey. Sam's just an asshole," I blurted. Okay, so tact and subtlety have never been my strong points. Casey smiled grimly, and I knew immediately I'd said the wrong thing. It was the truth, though. She tried to smile a little and nodded a bit because I guess she agreed. But a moment later, the understanding was gone, replaced by steely insistence. Her eyes bored into me. I gulped. Normally I can get Casey so riled up she isn't even thinking straight in her anger, but now this is serious. Remember, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Casey glowered at me. She slid to the edge of her bed, closer to me. Then she grabbed my collar with a surprising force, pulling me only inches away from her face. It was not a romantic move. Her breath felt hot against my face. Her lips were chapped and kind of bitten. "**Damn** it, Derek! Just tell me what the _hell_ is **wrong** with me!" Casey snapped venomously, full of wrath. I was stunned, both at her barely contained rage and her swearing. My Casey didn't curse. I have never seen her that pissed off. Never, not even at me.

That's just the problem. There's nothing wrong with her. I even like her flair for theatrics. "Nothing, Casey. _Nothing_ is wrong with you," I swore, looking her straight in the eye. That time, I wasn't lying. I meant every word. Casey scowled and jerked my collar hard, almost sending me flying into her. It hurt. Wrong answer, apparently. Try again later. Either that or she didn't believe me. She glared daggers at me. Her eyes were dark and devoid of everything except rage and numbness. She was almost blind with fury.

Like she was that time she tried to strangle me. I hadn't forgotten.

Trust me; you just can't forget something like that. I mean, I've got a lot of people mad at me in my time, but I must say Casey's the only one who has ever tried to strangle me.

Then, out of nowhere, Casey slapped me so hard across the face that I felt my neck pop. It stung like a bitch. Moments later, she was once again in my face. "Tell me the goddamn truth, Derek. For _once_ in your life, stop lying!" Casey growled. Midway her voice became sort of strangled and more of a shout. She was losing control faster than ever. She looked me dead in the eye. Her eyes were merciless and cool. "If you were Sam, why would you cheat on me?" Casey hissed sneeringly. She asked me that on purpose, knowing that I loved her, and knowing I'd have absolutely no chance with her once I told her the answer. She wanted to make me suffer for what Sam had done. And I'm fine paying for my own crimes, but I will not suffer for what Sam did. I am not Sam, **damnit**! So I said nothing. Casey shook me by the collar then like she was trying to shake me until I told her what she wanted to hear.

Problem is that I didn't know what she wanted to hear. So I said the only thing I could. I guess, the only thing she could accept. I bet you anything she knew exactly what I was going to say. "He wanted to get **laid**, Casey, and he didn't give a damn who did it," I screamed back, clamping my hands around her wrists and pulling her hands off my collar. I shoved her back on to her bed. This time I was the pissed-off one losing his control. Just frickin' peachy. Casey froze after I said that. Her hands were shaking, and she was numb. But she knew that's what I had to say. Because that was why Sam did it. He wanted to have sex, but he didn't want to have sex with Casey. Dumbass.

To my horror, Casey started crying, and I immediately felt like crap. I knew about Sam, and still I say something so monumentally stupid and insensitive like that. But she wanted me to say it! Maybe she even needed me to say it! I wanted to do nothing more than leave because I should've never come in the first place. And now, to top it all off, I'd made her cry again. I always feel lousy when I make Casey cry. And like any guy, I'm lost around a sobbing chick. I feel completely overwhelmed, and I can't do anything.

Actually, to be more accurate, Casey started _wailing_, yes, wailing. Her whole face crumpled, and she collapsed unto her bed, curling up into a little ball. I was about ready to go get Lizzie when it occurred to me that I ought to at least try to do something. I walked over to Casey, trying to compose myself. Somehow my breathing had sped up. I smoothed my hair reflexively and then gingerly sat down on the edge of Casey's bed. This is new territory for me. _I've_ never done this before. I gently placed my hand on my shoulder. Casey stiffened at my touch. I wanted to remove my hand, but I found that I couldn't. I moved a little closer to Casey out of necessity. "Casey, I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that," I whispered apologetically. I really hadn't meant to say it, and I didn't want to hurt Casey.

Casey said nothing, but her shoulders shook a little less. I rubbed her back and tried to smile. "It's not what's wrong with _you_, Casey... It's what's wrong with Sam. Sam made the decision. It isn't your fault. You didn't push him to it. He's just not the right guy for you, that's all. You'll find a new one, a better one... one who loves you and would never do that to you. And then it'll get better, Case," I murmured reassuringly, trying somehow to explain it to her in nice words. It was a vast understatement, but it would have to do. Casey's tears slowed. "It'll get better, Casey. Just give it time," I mumbled, caressing her silky hair. Casey stopped crying.

She turned on her side to look at me, wiping lightly at her eyes. The tiniest of smiles was on her lips. For once, she looked just a little bit hopeful. I couldn't believe it. Just a few of my words had made her stop crying? I had made her feel better? Maybe I can do this whole comforting thing after all! She smiled a thin, watery smile, pulling her head unto my lap. "Thanks, Derek. I needed to hear that," She said gratefully. Her voice was so soft I had to lean in to hear her. "Sam never really loved me in the first place, and I was just too blind to see it," Casey lamented tearfully. Her nails dug into my thighs, and I bit my lip.

She hurled herself at me like a wild thing, knocking me over. She buried her face in my chest and started to sob once again. Honestly, I will never understand Casey. Just when I think I know her, she does something like this. I get that they broke up and she loved him, but does she have to be so overly emotional about it? She's better off without him anyways. Why can't she just listen to that whiny girl music? I could, however, do nothing more than put my arms around her and whisper nonsense in her ear. I don't remember what I said, but it sounded soothing. She also didn't punch my lights out, so I apparently said nothing offensive.

I felt Casey wrap her arms around me just a little. Her hands brushed against my chest. She snuggled closer to me so that she was now half on top of me. If I didn't know her better, I'd say she was doing it on purpose! But such a thought was, of course, utterly ridiculous. "I can fix that," Casey muttered in a low voice, lifting her head away from my stomach just enough so that I could hear her. Our eyes met. Fix what? I hadn't realized I'd asked my question out loud until Casey, head still raised, answered me. "What you said before. I can fix _that_, Derek," She replied blankly. I swallowed hard. Her voice was icy. Maybe my apology hadn't worked out. How odd. I'd actually meant that one.

I remembered what I said before. How could I forget? It was about Sam getting laid. I said that was pretty much why he cheated. It's why I'd cheat too, but I am not a cheater. Not even on Kendra, excepting that one time that I tried to go out with another girl. Point is, I didn't have sex with anyone while I was dating her. And that was, unfortunately, a longer while than I would've wished. But jeez, she was worse than Casey. I mean, seriously, she was so dramatic she put Casey to shame. And so annoying and uninteresting... and bimbo-ish. And clingy as hell! Wait, why am I thinking about my annoying ex-girlfriend?

Oh, right. It's either that or thinking about what Casey means when she says she can "fix" it. What, is she gonna sleep with every guy she dates now? Please, oh, please, God, don't let that be true! Please don't tell me I talked her into putting out for the nameless losers she'll date. I don't want Casey to have a sex life. Because then I'll have to hear people talking about my sister in the locker room and... well, that's not really talk I want to hear. Maybe I've created a monster here. I will never give Casey advice on guys again. Never. In fact, I want to lock her up in a nunnery for the rest of her life and only let gay men (not including Sam), family, and myself visit her.

I was frowning. Casey shrugged and pouted. "Well, I can," She remarked diffidently. But just because she can doesn't mean she should. And wow, look at how much of a hypocrite I am! I shook my head. Casey's eyes narrowed and she pulled her neck up a little higher. "After all, then guys like you would want to date me," She retorted bitterly, making it clear just how little she thought of guys like _me_. If I had been standing, I would've winced. Harsh. I was not like Sam. Not when it came to Casey, and not when it came to screwing dudes. She can say whatever the hell she wants, but I don't pressure girls into having sex with me. I'm shallow enough to dump them for it, but it's not like I wouldn't have dumped them for another reason anyways. I don't string them along. A couple of weeks or a few days, maybe... The girls do what they want to do. I don't make anyone do anything they don't want to do.

Besides, I already wanted to date Casey. And I wasn't getting laid. Not that Casey considered that. Casey screwed up her face. "Oh, yes, let's fix that, then, shall we?" Casey replied dryly, mockingly. I couldn't decide if she meant it or not. If she did, she was propositioning me. If she was, I wouldn't mind. Casey pushed herself up, but she didn't really move. Parts of her body were still brushing against mine, and it was driving me insane. "So Sam doesn't love me because I won't give it up to him, huh?" Casey asked almost seductively, playing with my collar. Her voice was more sardonic, though, than sexy. Casey laughed just once, a harsh, caustic laugh. She sneered down at me; somehow she'd wound up facing me and on top of me. "And _you_," She began, pausing to punctuate her statement by poking me in the chest. "You're a complete whore, but you love me. I haven't given you anything, and you love me. How does that work, Derek?" Casey snarled, pushing me down.

For starters, I can't say why Sam doesn't love Casey. I'm not Sam. But the guy has always been a dumbass, and now he's just an asshole. Maybe he's not capable of it. Maybe something just snapped in him, and no one, not even Casey, could fix it. And secondly, I don't know how that works! I just know I love Casey... and isn't that really all I need to know? So I shrugged because that was the only thing I could do, really. Casey's eyes narrowed in irritation. She was mad that I wasn't talking. Odd for a girl who spends quite a bit of time trying to get me to shut up. She glared at me until I answered. "I don't know. All I know is that I love you," I said slowly.

Casey laughed mockingly. She was laughing _at_ me. "That doesn't surprise me." She was obviously referencing my apparent stupidity. I'm not gonna say that didn't piss me off, because it did. I am not a stupid guy. I just act stupid and make it seem like I'm stupid when in reality I'm just an underachiever. Besides, it's not "cool" to be smart. But I deserve it. It's not like I'm not conscious of the way my actions appear. And after all, she'd just dumped her boyfriend. She had a right to be angry, even if her anger was directed towards the wrong guy. That's all I've ever been to Casey. The **wrong** guy. It's really a wonder she's ever kissed me. But even the self-righteous need to be **wrong** sometimes, even if they'd never admit to it.

Then Casey surprised me. She gave me a deep, penetrating look. It almost seemed like she was searching for something in my eyes. After she'd surveyed me long enough, she seemed to decide something. An enigmatic look I'd never seen before appeared in her eyes, and I had no idea what it meant. For all I knew, she was gonna try and kill me. But like I said, she surprised me. Casey's arms went slack and she was basically flush against me. At first I thought it was an accident, but then Casey put her hands on my cheeks and leaned forward. She delivered a kiss that turned my world upside down. I'm not the type of guy to be strongly affected by one kiss, but it happened. I can't tell you why this kiss was different, but I knew that nothing between us would ever be the same afterwards. She didn't kiss like Casey would. It was rough, wild, and fierce. And, above all, passionate. The kiss was like a sexual manifestation, or rather, the culmination of all of our verbal arguments.

Casey only pulled back when she ran out of air. Her eyes were a dark, inky blue and clouded. She was so close I could feel the fringe of her eyelashes on my cheek. I tried to sit up a little; it was an awkward position and not wholly comfortable. Casey pushed me down with both hands. I raised an eyebrow at her, confused by her sudden action. It kind of came out of nowhere, and Casey is, by no means, an impulsive person. I wanted to ask her what it meant, but analyzing a love interest's every move is a little too Casey-like for me.

There was something very strange about this. Something not right, as much as it pains me to admit that. Like they say, if it looks too good to be true... it usually is. It also looked a lot like she was just using me. Normally, I wouldn't mind that, but it was Casey, honest Casey. I expected more from Casey. I loved Casey. I would not use Casey. And, okay, sue me; I didn't want to be her rebound guy. That's just insulting. I resisted her hands and sat up, frowning. "You're in love with Sam, Casey," I pointed out with disdain. She'd made that very clear, and I was just a little bitter about it. She kept saying it over and over again, and every time she said it, it made me a little sicker. I wasn't gonna make it easy for her or let her think that she could just come running to me when it didn't work out with Sam. She'd put me through hell and back almost, so I figured I ought to make it a little harder for her.

Just so I could know if she actually wanted me.

Casey flinched at the mention of her ex. I felt her stiffen. I could tell the break-up was still bothering her. What did she think I was, stupid? Did she think I wouldn't notice that she still had feelings for her ex? Apparently she did. She thought I would be blinded by her finally giving me a chance. How little, then, she thinks of me. "He cheated on me," She said in a low, measured voice. She was particularly careful to avoid any more emotional outbursts. "He is _dead_ to me," Casey hissed maliciously. I never knew she had it in her.

Then Casey leaned her head against my chest, holding on to me. I couldn't see her face. I felt her sigh against me. "He doesn't love me, Derek, and you do. That's all that matters now," She murmured softly. She sounded almost resigned. Then Casey looked up at me, with earnest, shining eyes. But I couldn't believe her. Because in that entire statement, vehement as it was, she had never once denied loving Sam... and, more importantly, she had never mentioned her feelings towards me. I know it sounds stupid or weird or whatever, but I wanted her to acknowledge that there was something between us. How lame was it for her to consider being with me just because she knew I loved her and wouldn't cheat on her? Because, apparently, a guy like me would, in this case, actually be the safer option. I resented that.

I wanted nothing more than to give in, but I was so frustrated. I had no right to be, but I was. She tried to kiss me again, and it killed me to do it, but I pulled away. "You don't love me, Casey," I said, feeling all the bitterness and rejection welling up in me. How often had she denied that? How much had she hated me and everything about me? How many absolutely horrible things had she said, knowing I loved her? She didn't get to just come running to me because she'd made a mistake. It wasn't fair to me. I didn't know what the hell she felt. How could I? She'd spent so much time denying there was anything there. Her sudden 180 really pissed me off. Like, what, I was her second choice? I know she's vulnerable and all, but I wasn't gonna be someone's second choice. I deserve better than that. I respect myself too much for that. I am the first choice. Period. I am _always_ the first choice, and I wasn't gonna play second to **_Sam_**, of all people.

Not even for Casey.

It was just another way Casey was toying with me. I didn't like the fact that she thought she could kiss me a few times, and I'd just kowtow to her will. It doesn't work like that. Casey's eyes narrowed. Apparently the frustration was catching. "That never stopped you before," She retorted icily. Low blow. She was right, of course. It hadn't. I wasn't exactly proud of that, but I get things done. Just look at where she is now. On top of me. See my point? I was persistent as can be, even when she didn't want to see it. And maybe it's paying off. But, Hell, she still doesn't want to see it. She just wants someone to comfort her after the Break-Up from Hell, and I'm not going to be that person. Never again will I be a shoulder to cry on. I don't like Casey when she's like this. She's not acting like herself, at least not the Casey I know.

I had to get out of her room. I saw only two possible conclusions to the night if I did. One of them involves murder. Both of them involve me somehow expressing all the rage I keep carefully bottled up inside on Casey. Both of them also involve bloodshed. If I didn't get out soon, I would lose my mind... and definitely do something I'd wind up regretting later on. I wasn't keen on staying to find out which sin it'd be. I ripped Casey's hands off of me. She wasn't in her right mind. Obviously. I think she lost more than a few of her marbles when she caught Sam in the bathroom in the middle of an orgy. And while I can sympathize with that scarring sight, I cannot sympathize with her trying to use me. It's not going to make it better. It'll just mess things up, make everything a hell of a lot more confusing... and make it that much worse. I love her enough to not inflict that on her. And I don't trust myself to stay and do the right thing; therefore the right thing is to leave.

"You don't want me, Casey," I growled, feeling the rage surge in my veins. I said this while heading briskly towards the door. Running would be cowardly. Plus, my mind was made up. What could she possibly say to make me stay? Nothing. Once my mind's made up, I change it for no one. My hand was on the doorknob within a few moments. I didn't look back. I didn't exactly want to leave her like this, but it had to be done. For her safety and my sanity. I opened the door and had set one foot firmly outside when she said something. Casey always has to have the last word, after all.

"The very first thing I learned when I moved in here was that Derek Michael Venturi always gets what he wants," She began loudly, sliding off the bed and rising to her feet. The way she said my full name sent a chill down my spine. That stopped me dead in my tracks. I didn't know she even knew my middle name. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to see where she was going with that. It was a very general, very true statement. And she admitted it, which intrigued me.

"You want me," She stated blithely, bluntly. It was, after all, a fact. _That_ made me turn around. Cutting straight to the chase, aren't we, Case? I stood there stoically, but I didn't deny it. Unlike Casey, I refuse to deny the truth. I was a little surprised, actually. Casey gave me a look, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you _do_, don't you?" She asked rhetorically. To answer the question, I met her gaze head-on. I wasn't ashamed of it, no matter how much Casey tried to make me. Casey continued on like I wasn't even there. "You've made that painfully obvious." That one cut a little, but I had. She just didn't have to be such a bitch about it.

My fury, which had previously been fading as I got further and further away, now rose sharply. Faaaantastic. Five seconds, and she's already pissing me off. Just by stating the obvious. Wow. That has to be a record. Casey went on like she didn't even notice how much she was irritating me. After all, she'd gotten me to stay, even if it was for only a few moments longer. I was leaving when she was done talking, period. Nothing she would ever say could change my mind. Unless she said she loves me, but come on, how farfetched is that?

"And here I am..." Casey whispered, raising her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips defiantly, standing before me in all her glory. Her window was open, so the moonlight was gleaming on her porcelain skin. She looked like a goddess standing there, and she knew it. She paused deliberately, tilting her head back and staring at me with dark, forbidding eyes. She walked toward me slowly, and I grew wary. Casey stopped a few feet short of her target, when she was sure that I was entranced. She wanted to be unattainable yet within reach. Twisted, isn't it? Then she looked me dead in the eye. "Finally ready to let you have what you want most," She declared huskily, even seductively. Her stare was utterly naked, and she'd been stripped of all her pretenses in a few moments. Her eyes were dark yet alive with pure lust, a hidden passion lingering in their grey-blue depths.

That's when it hit me. Finally ready, huh? She licked her lips then, deliberately, knowing full well what she was doing and how it would affect me. I swallowed hard. It was awful hard to turn down an offer like that. Terribly so. Casey's face, formerly inviting and warm, turned cold and hard. "Yet you would turn me down for what, the scruples you **don't** have?" Casey sniped frostily. Her eyes were like daggers. And okay, so maybe I'm not the most moral guy out there, but even I know when not to cross the line. She shook her head scornfully, like she was disappointed in me. Because she'd expected me to be a horny playboy only good for a roll in the hay 24-7, and she still didn't exactly think me capable of... purer motives, like love.

"Don't pretend that you would ever turn down an offer like this because I know you, Derek, and I know you would do it in a heartbeat," Casey snarled in a voice full of assurance. She was right again, almost. I would if I loved her, and I did. And, contrary to her beliefs, I would say no to someone else under these circumstances. There is a right way to do things, and sometimes, even the wrong guy has to do the right thing. Because giving in now, when she's vulnerable and angry and upset... It wouldn't be right. And with Casey, I want it to be right. I want it to be perfect. I don't want to give her a reason to regret it. "You don't really object to it," Casey insisted like she knew me, like she could see straight into my heart and my head and knew it was true. But she didn't, and I did.

If she wanted to talk me into temptation, she was just going to have to try harder. 'Cause I wasn't going to give in, no, not this time. If I do, then I'm nothing more than the asshole she thinks I am. Casey rolled her eyes and gave me a patronizing look. She placed her hand on my arm, and I stiffened under her touch. "We both know this has been building up for months. There's absolutely no need to deny it anymore. Why fight it?" Casey said soothing, trying to manipulate me. I have to say... that threw me for a loop. Casey wasn't denying it for once? Will wonders never cease? She was making me think, unfortunately, and thinking was bad. Not thinking was even worse, though. I didn't notice she'd come closer until it was too late.

She shut the door behind me. I looked again, and there she was, up close and personal. Her lips were pouty and full, only centimeters away from mine. I could feel her chest, her body, just brushing against mine. We weren't quite pressed up against each other, but we were pretty close. She dropped her arms to her sides and leaned forward just a little. Her nose accidentally touched mine. "If you really want me," She breathed as her eyelids fluttered, "then take me." It was an open invitation. "I'm yours."

And then she was falling into my arms, and we were kissing like there was no tomorrow. I was pressed up against the door; she was pressed against me. The door locked, probably due to Casey's fumbling fingers. I couldn't leave now, even if I wanted to. There wasn't a thought in my mind except that she was here, and she was real. I could feel her warm skin underneath my hands. It was finally happening. My daydreams and wishes were finally coming true. She was all mine now. I was euphoric. Casey felt so _good_, though, and she was letting me touch her and kiss her and do all those things I'd wanted to do but couldn't for so long. Of course it wouldn't last.

We only pulled away from air, but eventually I started to notice that I wasn't quite pressed up against the wall anymore. In fact, Casey was pulling me towards the bed, trying to distract me with one hot kiss after another. It had been working, though. I wasn't too proud to deny that. That woke me up, snapped me out of the haze of lust and ecstasy. Casey was vulnerable, and I couldn't take advantage of her. That was wrong. Only it became harder to remind myself of that with every kiss. And then my back hit the bed, the soft, comfortable bed. Casey followed me. As addicting as kissing her was, I couldn't let this happen. I pulled away, and when she tried to kiss me again, I held her back. "Casey, you don't want _me_. You don't want this. You'll just regret it later," I tried to tell her.

Casey shot me a look and tried to kiss me again, but I was adamant. Casey sure wised up fast. Her eyes were steely with resolve, and she made sure to look me dead in the eye when she spoke. "I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't want _this_. I wouldn't have let you walk in my door if I wasn't ready for _this_. I want this, Derek," She assured me slowly, repetitively, trying to make sure I got the message. I didn't believe her then, so I kept holding her back. Casey shook her head irritably like she thought I had her all wrong. The ghost of a bitter smile appeared on her lips. You don't understand, it seemed to say. "I knew this was gonna happen the minute you walked in, and I didn't tell you to go. I didn't force you out. I didn't make you leave. I let you stay because I wanted you to stay," Casey stated plainly, making everything very clear. I hated myself, but I was starting to believe her. She could've easily done all those things, but she made a conscious decision not to.

This time Casey pulled away from me, settling herself on the bed. She threw her head back upon the pillows, staring at me with dark, flinty eyes. Eyes that were hard and decisive like blue diamonds. She adjusted her hips, making herself comfortable, feeling my eyes on her. She threw a hand back over her head. The other one lay, palm facing upwards, on the bed near her thigh. "I know what I'm getting into, Derek." I shot her a skeptical look, surprise glittering in my eyes. You have absolutely no idea, I thought. After all, Princess had no idea what to do with a real man, right? She'd been with Sammy far too long. She shook her head slowly, almost like she knew what I was thinking, saying her words so quietly I had to lean in extra close to hear them. "I'm not going to make you stop," She promised firmly with eyes full of challenge. Strangely, I believed her. But I wanted her to tell me to stop so damn bad, and I didn't know why.

I couldn't say anything, not even one damn word. She reached over and placed her hands on my shoulders lightly, just enough so that I could feel her there. One of the straps of her dress fell down her arm. She didn't attempt to fix it. She didn't pull me towards her or try to kiss me again. She just laid there in repose, calm as can be, hands outstretched on my shoulders. I wasn't on top of her or anything; I was just sort of sitting nearby. She looked at me quietly as if waiting for me to make a choice. I knew what choice I had to make. What choice I should make. "I have a choice, and I've made it," She replied serenely with an air of finality. And then she took my hand and placed it over her heart. I could feel her heart beating underneath my hand, faster and faintly. The "I choose you" was unspoken. She was looking at me with those damned eyes, too, and I felt completely powerless for once in my life.

And I did it. I, the infamously stubborn Derek Michael Venturi, changed my mind.

But I couldn't help it. I've never been one to resist the forbidden fruit. And I happen to have this self-control problem. As in I don't have any. So _I_ pulled her close anyways, and _I_ took her in my arms despite all rationality, and, so help me, _I_ kissed her. Even though it was the wrong thing to do. She didn't say stop, just like she'd promised. I trailed my fingers down her chest, over the smooth skin the v of her neckline didn't cover just between her breasts. It didn't seem real, what I was doing. It felt like I had to hurry, that it was just a fleeting moment and soon enough she'd tell me to stop like always, and I had to get all I could in that one moment. I felt around the back of the dress she was wearing for the zipper, jerking it down abruptly. Casey gasped, and I paused for a moment, inhaling greedily. Then, a moment later, when I had almost given up hope, Casey pulled me to her again in a hungry kiss.

I smiled against her lips, thereby reassured. Within moments I was pulling down the straps of that dress, completely on top of her. I wasn't ripping it off of her, just tugging anxiously, wanting it to be down and off faster. It seemed to suit Casey; she had no complaints. Even if she had breath enough to speak, for once I'm sure she would've actually approved. It kinda surprised me but kinda thrilled me at the same time. Casey didn't seem like the fast type of girl, the one who wanted it hard and angry and done with. I'm not that kind of guy, usually, but I try and give the ladies what they want. If her moans were any indication (and they always are), she was completely into it.

Her ivory arms were finally free of their vivid green constraints. I pulled the fabric of the dress down to her waist, pressing reverent kisses to her skin. She was wearing a lacy black bra, the bra of a girl who'd planned for something just like this. It was a sign, I thought, so I kept going. But I couldn't help but notice the way she sucked a breath in as I kissed further and further down her torso, across her abdomen. I kissed my way back up when I noticed her trembling. Casey was so still and so silent. Her skin was cold, not from the room, but as if she'd been sweaty. Her skin was almost clammy that way, cool and slick. I ran my hungry fingers over the impersonal, classic black lace push-up bra. I was aching for a touch, a taste.

I increased the pressure of my lips on her neck. Nipping at the tender flesh, tasting, memorizing, sucking hard enough to leave my mark all over her. Everyone would know she was mine. I didn't care how many weeks she'd have to wear a turtleneck. Besides, there was always Sam to blame. Casey shuddered and even winced sometimes, in between the moans... so I stopped and kissed her full on the mouth. She didn't move much after that. She just let my body rest on top of hers for a while. I ran my hands all over her, trying to commit the feeling to memory. Casey tasted a little like peppermint and punch and cherry lip-gloss. She tasted too sweet, though, like some sugary food that leaves a bad, strange taste in your mouth after the sugar fades away. And then I didn't much want to kiss her as much, so I pulled back.

It had become clear to me that she wasn't going to call it all off suddenly and leave me hanging in the lurch. Still, I didn't wholly trust Casey. I trusted myself, though, even less. Casey's lips were swollen and pink from my kisses. It flattered her. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess of curls. She looked absolutely amazing, like a dream come to life. Her eyes were a deep indigo, almost black, the color of midnight and the deepest parts of the ocean, the part that light rarely visits. There was a hint, or rather a flash of violet too in those irises. It occurred to me suddenly that this was just about the most undone I'd ever seen Casey. And I had made her this way. It was almost the most completely undone I'd ever see her, but that happened later. I had her completely at my mercy, completely at my will. She was mine for the taking.

I nearly shook with anticipation at the thought. I wanted her so badly I could taste it; I could picture it all happening exactly as I'd imagined it time and time again. Only not quite. But still, my twitching hands slid past her chest and around her back. I fumbled with the clasps of her bra, damn near waged a war with the thing, but it wouldn't open to my magic hands. I never have trouble unfastening a bra. Never. I can usually do it in under 2 seconds. I can even unfasten the bra and take it off while the girl's still wearing a top. Hell, a few times I've even just looked at the girl's bra, and it has come undone. So why was I having trouble now, when it seemingly mattered the most? After all, I needed to impress Casey. Desperately, for some reason, I had to impress Casey, to make it worth her while... or what, she'd decide she didn't want this after all?

I fumbled around a bit more. Casey sat up a little, frustrated with me. She pouted and rolled her eyes. Then she put her hands on mine and threw my hands to the side. "Don't act like you've never done this before," Casey hissed in a throaty voice. I know it was taking a while, but I didn't get why she was pissed. Unless she'd screwed some guy at her old school, which I seriously doubted, she was a virgin. And therefore, what the hell did she know about it anyways? What she's seen in the movies?

I glanced down at my hands. I hadn't even noticed that my hands were shaking. Casey put a finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at her. She shifted beneath me purposefully. "Derek, it's a front-clasp bra," She pointed out stiffly. That would've been funny if I wasn't so nervous and doing it all wrong. I laughed nervously and looked down to confirm that indeed, it was. How had I missed that single snap? Easy access. It was almost like she'd planned it this way. I forced a smile and kissed her hard enough so that she'd forget (I hoped).

I don't think she did, but she didn't say anything and seemed as responsive as ever. I toyed with the snap, deliberately snapping and unsnapping it. I think the sound damn near drove Casey crazy because eventually she just grabbed my hand and undid it herself. She looked frustrated that we were getting nowhere. We _were_ getting nowhere. If it was any other girl, I'd have her stripped bare by now. But this was Casey, and Casey was something special. Not just any other girl. Casey mattered to me, and none of the other girls ever had. I don't normally waste time with a girl. Not like I was doing now. But something in me... I just couldn't do it, you know? I couldn't take Casey like I wanted to.

Because the Casey I knew resisted me. She was suspicious of all my motives, didn't trust me, and completely hated me. I was used to that, and I kind of felt pretty much the same way (see above if you want proof). The Casey I knew was buried deep in denial, and she fought me. She fights me like no one else ever has. That's my favorite thing about her. Casey makes me furious, and I am by no means an emotional man. Casey makes me feel things other than lust, apathy, and victory. Casey makes me want to be a better person, and I make her a worse person. But fundamentally I'm not a better person, which was why I was still there with her, despite all my objections.

This Casey is so submissive. She doesn't do much of anything except kiss back and lie there. I didn't want her like this. I didn't want her to surrender, to be resigned and bitter about it. I wanted her to give in willingly. I wanted her to mean it like I meant it. I wanted her to want me for me, not just for what physical comfort I could offer. I'm not that freakin' shallow, okay? I do have feelings, as much as I try to deny it and hate, HATE to admit it. Because, Hell, I could have sex with anyone, and I'd feel basically the same. You know, it was nice while it lasted, and maybe some of them were lousy in bed or made me do all the damn work or didn't even get me off... but in the end, none of them really meant anything more to me than a few moments of mindless, empty physical satisfaction, and maybe a bit of release. But Casey meant more to me than just a lay. I loved her, damnit! It wouldn't be the same with her as it was with any other girl. So I couldn't just do her, tear all her clothes off and screw her brains out. I'd hate myself if I did that.

It sounds weird that a guy like me actually gives a damn about this sort of thing, especially now, but I do have a moral code. I know what's right and what's wrong. And I do feel guilty if I treat her lousy. Casey's changed me and all. I couldn't help it, but the more I thought about it, the more wrong it became to me, the guiltier I felt... and the more I couldn't do it. I couldn't help it.

It felt like I was just about to carelessly steal her most prized possession, something so very precious that she could never take back. Not really. I didn't want to tear her up inside, wrench her heart, and break her. I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want to rip it out of her hands; in the end, I'd wind up with her blood on my hands. I was almost hesitant to touch her because I certainly wasn't good enough for her or what she expected, what she deserved. My hands were dirty and unworthy and calloused, rough and coarse. She was still like some unapproachable, unattainable ideal to me. I'd placed her up high on that pedestal, all marble skin, smooth curves, and delicate carving. It felt wrong to want to soil that vision of ethereal perfection.

I was almost afraid that she'd break if I touched her in the wrong way. Or that if I carried it out, if I really did this... then I'd lose Casey. I thought she'd lose her precious self-respect, her prized dignity, her brutal aloofness, her demanding sense of justice and fairness and self-righteousness, her bossiness, and her mystery by giving in to me... and then what would I love about her? What would she even be to me then? She wouldn't even be Casey anymore, but someone else entirely. I wouldn't know her; she would be a stranger. Maybe it was better for me to stay away... better for her, me, the both of us.

And then there was the unsettling question of what the hell would happen afterward. Most of my relationships with girls didn't last very long after... well, after. I got bored, sick of one girl. What if the reason I wanted Casey so bad was just because I couldn't have her? What's it gonna be like then when all the sexual tension is gone? How's this whole thing going to work, or is it even going to work? And is this just a one-night thing or what, something real? Casey's not the only one sailing in uncharted waters here. So I just... I couldn't. So I snapped the front of the bra again and started to get off of her, feeling awkward and embarrassed. I can't even imagine what Casey's thinking of me now (the words "All talk and no action" come to mind), but I don't care. I was going to do the _right_ thing for once in my goddamn life, and she wasn't going to ruin it for me. After all, I'm doing it for **her**!

For once, I'm not being selfish here. I had to get out. I needed it so badly that I stumbled getting up. I felt somehow ashamed; I couldn't even look at Casey. I'd made my way to the door, fingers ready to undo the lock when Casey spoke. "I want _you_, Derek," She murmured in such a voice that it left no room for alternate interpretation. It was more of a whine with a frustrated hint of desperation. But it was believable, clear, exactly what I had been longing to hear... and I ate it up like a sucker. That was enough for me. I was a goner. So of course I had to look back at her, and she was just lying there, looking comfortable, warm, and achingly beautiful.

And I just _couldn't_ say no. She was still heartbroken, reeling from my best friend's betrayal. Right then, I was all she had in the world. I loved her, so wasn't it my duty to look after her? Wasn't I supposed to stay? Okay, it was a lousy way of convincing myself I was doing the right thing, but I had to. Because sometimes the wrong need to be convinced that they're right, just like the righteous need to do something wrong every now and then. I guess maybe Casey needed to be wrong; I _was_ that wrong thing. I couldn't crush her like that; I couldn't reject her like he had. I might be cruel, but I'm not heartless. I'm not as strong as I look; I'm not the god or king people make me out to be. In the end, I'm just a weak man.

I took a deep breath and walked over to Casey, pressing my lips against hers. She pulled me down with her, over her, actively this time. She peeled off my blazer, ripping my arms out of the sleeves, and tossing it on the floor. Her fingers hurried over the buttons of my shirt, trying to undo it as fast as she could. But I stopped her; this was something I wanted to savor, to engrave in my memory. I fully intended to value every last moment, good 'til the last drop. I didn't just want to get it over with, wham, bam, and the thrill would be gone like that. I wanted to take my time, to enjoy it. I wanted her to remember it. Slow. I let her unbutton my shirt then, slowly... let it fall to the floor. I concentrated all of my being on kissing her, tugging her dress over her hips inch by inch. It tortured me to do it, but I wanted to give her choices. I wanted her to be fully positive that this... that I... was what she wanted.

Casey didn't want to wait or prolong it. But eventually Casey wasn't wearing the dress; it was nothing more, just a puddle of green fabric on the floor. She was only wearing lacy black lingerie and the necklace I gave her. And then her fingers became insistent and struggled hard with the zipper of my jeans. It was stuck and painfully so, but my Casey persisted. Again and again she battled with my zipper until she jerked it down so suddenly that it hurt. Seconds later, thanks to her nimble fingers, my pants were around my ankles. I kicked them off.

I wasn't thinking straight. I was dizzy from the heady passion and coming so close to the realization of my aspirations. My fingers slid down to the snap of her bra, playing with it, almost toying with her. I kissed past her lips, across her cheeks, over her jaw, down her neck, along her collarbone... She wrapped her arms tightly around me, dragging me deeper into the kiss. Her fingers buried themselves in my hair, amusing themselves with the ends of my hair. Her nails dug into the back of my neck, which stung. I wound my arms around her, and then I unclasped her bra. She moved her arms so I could better remove it, and would you believe me when I say I didn't look? You wouldn't, but that's the truth. I had the chance to see and memorize what I'd merely dreamt of seeing and possessing and touching for so long, yet I didn't. I didn't do any of those things, not yet. I held on tight; her skin pressing against my skin almost everywhere except... her coolness meeting with my warmth. I was inflamed with the fires of desire, and she was frozen with submission.

My hot hand crept down her stomach to her hip; my fingers latched unto the band of her underwear. I had done it unwittingly, without knowing what I was doing. It came to me as naturally as breathing; I was accustomed to this. But I pulled back, extricated myself from the kiss, although I did not remove myself from her embrace; her skin was still hotly flush against mine. My hand stayed where it was. I disciplined myself harshly to insure that it remained in its place. I didn't want to invade Casey; I had to be absolutely certain. Because if I did what my fingers were long itching and suffering to do, there was no going back. Even Casey couldn't deny that it had happened. She might try, but it would never, _ever_ work. And she was not at all drunk; she would have to remember clearly. At best, she could merely excuse it, but never could she take it back. She couldn't reclaim what she would lose. And she had to want it, really want it, for me to do it without guilt.

I held back for a moment, letting the sheen of lust clear just a little from her eyes. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened slowly to look back at me. I saw myself reflected in those eyes, looming large and fearsome. Her pupils were wide, dilated. I gave pause, and I waited impatiently for an answer... An answer I thought I could believe. But a part of me would never accept that answer, even after it was done, and maybe that was why I held back and denied myself of the pleasure, true to form, like Casey, for so long. As you well know, I am not a man of indeterminable self-control. I wanted her sensible; I wanted her to know full well what she was doing, and I wanted her to say yes with that sentiment in mind. So I just stared at her, saying nothing and waiting for a sign.

Casey didn't want to give me a sign. She refused, stubborn and staid, even to move. She barely breathed, and we continued on like this for what seemed an eternity. I held my breath unconsciously, unsure of what would come. I wasn't sure what I _would_ do. But eventually she relented. Even frozen, froward Casey had to give in and break at some point. She exhaled deeply, nearly shuddering with it. She leaned her forehead against mine, looked me dead in the eyes, dropping all pretext. "This either happens now or not at all," Casey hissed, meaning every word. She pressed a stream of wet kisses down my jaw line, only stopping when she reached my lips, which she quickly captured in a passionate kiss. A kiss that sealed all my doubts.

That single statement really put it all in perspective for me, stark contrast. I'd like to say that I was strong, but I'm not. So, forgive me, but I did the wrong thing. You know which road I chose. The path of least resistance. I couldn't take it. When faced with a choice of finally having what I so desired or doing the right thing... I chose now rather than never. Sue me. And I can't even say it felt right at the time because it didn't, not really. It felt good but yet so wrong, and even as I did it, I knew full well that what I was doing was wrong. But I couldn't stop, and I didn't really want to.

I can't say I don't regret my choice because a part of me does. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed Casey like that. Maybe I went too far. Or maybe I just misread absolutely everything, and I'm completely wrong. Hell, maybe I won't even love her tomorrow. But in life, you can't get caught up on the maybes. You can't undo something once you've done it. You have to live in the now. You have to live _with_ the now. So, as much as that tiny part of me regrets it, the rest of me doesn't. I did it; I confess, and I accept it, full responsibility. I willingly acknowledge that most of the blame falls on my shoulders, and I'll bear the punishment when it comes.

Reader, I had sex with her. So help me, God, I did. And as I lie here, spent, sticky and still warm with sweat, in _her_ bed, naked underneath _her_ sheets, staring up at _her_ ceiling, with _her_ sprawled out next to me, basking in the afterglow... and, most importantly, hopelessly deluded and hopelessly in love with her... I can honestly say that it was completely worth it. It was everything I'd always thought and hoped and fantasized it would be and so much more. She was everything I'd ever wanted, and I felt like the luckiest guy on Earth because I finally had it. I wouldn't take it back, not for the world. And maybe it was the heady buzz of the alcohol catching up with me, or the hazy screen of lust still over my eyes, or the fog of euphoria I was still hopelessly lost in, or the dizzying tangle of mystifying emotions I was experiencing, but I think I loved her more than I ever had.

I wanted Casey for her own sake, not for the challenge she presented. And I didn't just want Casey; it wasn't all over now. The feelings weren't gone; it wasn't just leftover sexual tension that had morphed into an infatuation that faded with its consummation. It was real, and I loved Casey. I loved her enough to give her my heart and my love, and, obviously, I don't trust just anyone with my soul. I made the right choice, too. Casey was the _right_ girl, even if I was the wrong guy.

I had been smiling before, contentedly, but upon thinking all this, my smile widened ridiculously, nearly stretching from ear to ear. I didn't want a smoke. I just wanted to rest in my newfound bliss with my... Casey. My eyelids started to flutter closed; it was very, very late, or very early in the morning, and I was exhausted. My eyes shut lightly, and the last thing I saw was a glimmer, a brilliant flash of the moonlight reflecting on the diamond necklace I'd given her. Her skin was opalescent and milky in the soft bluish light and every bit as radiant as the diamonds in the necklace. As I started to drift off, sleepily drawing close to her, draping my arm over her stomach, I knew without a doubt that I wouldn't wake up any less in love with her tomorrow, even if the chase was over... and even if _she_ didn't love me tomorrow.

Loren ;

Reviews are seriously appreciated. Besides, I'm sure you'll want to comment on _that_. I have a feeling I'm going to be answering all sorts of questions. Thanks so much for all your feedback and just for reading my work. It really does mean a lot to me.


	18. Divided

So, I'm feeling better about this chapter. Still don't completely like it, but whatever. Anyways, just wanted to get this out before I go to France. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I'll probably never be satisfied, and I like it a lot better, confusing as it is. Bet you'll all wanna tear your hair out after this. ;)

Side Note: Who else hates the new credits? I just liked them before, when Casey wasn't dancing through all of them. They made more sense that way. And there were whack outfits (since when is Casey a cheerleader anyways? And, while I realize she dances, wouldn't she like, I dunno, make them all fall down or something?). Although Casey's hair is really, really great. Plus I'm kinda on the bubble about Derek's hair... Is it too long, or does it look okay? I'm kinda leaning towards too long. It was better when his bangs and hair were in general a little shorter. When his bangs were sorta roundish and... I dunno. It looked a bit better. Now he could have a ponytail. Mid-length, yes, that's good. Although the longer hair almost completely works with his jacket. Lol, makes me wonder why Casey doesn't call him Dereka anymore. Although really, I think they're both slacker parents. Nora is not a "keener". I mean, she really is a slacker. And what does she do for a living anyways? Nora doesn't really need to be a stay-at-home Mom, though. The kids are really too old for her to do much. Although Derek working the kissing booth... Classic.

Oh, and Casey is completely all over in this chapter, kind of like me in this author's note. But when I say that I mean it. She contradicts herself and gets mean and serious and sad and a lot of emotions. Anger, sadness, regret, bitterness, frustration, exhaustion... Speaking of exhaustion, I'm gonna get to the chapter.

I really hope you like it, since all of you seemed so eager to read it (BTW, I wrote this really fast). Enjoy!

* * *

"... Jump him."

* * *

I was in the curious stage between sleep and wakefulness. I was either just beginning to wake up or just beginning to doze off. Either way, my eyelids were heavy, and I was exhausted. I was sweaty and hot, like I'd just awoken from a bad nightmare. Strangely, I had no memory of such an occurrence. Sleepily, I was torn between getting a glass of water or going back to sleep. Instead, I shifted a little, burying my head in the pillow. I shut my eyes tight and tried to fall back asleep.

And then, like a leaden weight, an arm dropped around my waist, pulling me closer. Someone's nose brushed against my hair, and I could feel the heat radiating off this strange person behind me. I sucked in a deep breath, fear flooding every inch of my being. And then, like that, I was awake. I lifted my head off the pillow, awkwardly turning around to face the person who was too close for comfort. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw it was Derek... Not to mention one very _naked _Derek.

As in... Which meant... You know...

OH MY GOD, I HAD SEX WITH DEREK!!!!!!!!!!

I succumbed to his charms. He was right. I was suddenly bombarded by memories, awash in hazy flashes of what had happened mere moments before. So it was a real nightmare after all. Several particularly graphic flashes came to me, and I began to see why I'd repressed these. I tried to force back the memories, shove them back down in their little box, but they kept popping back out again at the most inopportune moments. I was starting to get a headache, and knowing that Derek was right next to me, sleeping, wasn't helping matters. Because in the end, despite all my promises (that I well-remembered I had made), Derek was right. He weaseled his way into my bed, and I gave in to him.

The only reason he was there was because I had said I _wanted _him there. I was horrified with myself. What the hell was I thinking? Even if Sam had broken up with me... That was no reason to... I was so wound up I couldn't string two thoughts together. I couldn't believe it, but there it was, staring me straight in the face. And knowing that for once, I couldn't blame Derek? That was the hardest, the worst part of all. I wanted to, but I'd asked for it, and if I tried to call him on it, he'd throw that back in my face. This time I couldn't pass the buck to Derek, I couldn't give him the responsibility. There was only myself to blame. The thought made me sick to my stomach, and I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was further disgusted by his proximity, the intimacy of his position... the way he was just so casually there, so at ease with me. It was obnoxious, like he was flaunting it. I was covered in his sweat and other bodily fluids, wrapped in his warmth and his scent. And all of this was nothing but repulsive to me. Any romantic charm it might've had was ruined by... who he was and how I felt about him. And I had let him commit the ultimate invasion of personal space. I had let him come inside me. I fought back a shudder of revulsion at the thought and had to swallow down the bile that threatened to come up. My throat hurt.

I had sex with him, had even fallen asleep a little by his side. It didn't get any more intimate than that. Too bad I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I didn't even want to see him ever again. I realize that makes me sound like an insensitive bitch. After all, I'd just had sex with the guy; you would think I'd cut him a break. But no, his mere presence disgusted me. I wasn't in love with him. I still hated him, and I still felt the blood boiling in my veins at the mere thought of his irritation. I did not want to be around him. His grip was possessive and suffocating and heavy; I wanted to throw him off of me, to kick him out of my bed and my room. I wanted to leave forever and move away to the ends of the earth where he could never find me.

Such an option, of course, was impossible. Derek was utterly inescapable, and unless Mom and George undergo a nasty divorce... I will have to see Derek again at some point in my lifetime, no matter what I do. My brain was racing with ideas of how to get away from him, each one crazier than the last. I ruled them out, one after the other. I was completely freaking out. I couldn't just ignore it this time! I couldn't make it go away! I couldn't take it back! Oh, what the hell had I been thinking?! I must've not been in my right mind when I... I can't even say it, and I don't want to! I'm not! I've clearly gone insane, snapped... That's it!

This is all a dream. You are imagining this, Casey. It is only happening in your mind. You're asleep. You don't even have a stepbrother, much less one named Derek. Your mother never married, let alone dated, a man named George Venturi. You've never even seen this house. This isn't your room. You're really at the condo in Toronto. Yes... And, while I'm at it, might as well raise Dad from the dead. This is hopeless.

I was confused, angry with myself, furious with Derek, pissed at Sam, disgusted with the both of us, and terrifically sad that Sam had dumped me. Not a good mixture of emotions, especially when you're trying to fix a fine mess like the one I'd helplessly slipped into. I couldn't even think, so how could I find a solution? I couldn't even keep my mind on anything but the fact that HOLY CRAP, I SCREWED DEREK! Understandably, it took me a while to realize that someone could walk in and see him here, which would be even more embarrassing. I feel dirty, and not just physically.

And damn, if I don't feel like a whore! To have been where so many other girls have been before me? With _Derek? _No sex with Derek is safe sex. It would be a wonder if I didn't catch something. What was I thinking? To think, I was a virgin before... Ooh, that means my stepbrother took my virginity. And I wanted him to... kinda. The thought was... so unbelievable. And disgusting. And pathetic. I gave myself up to a family member... willingly. How horrific! And worse yet, he'd said earlier that I would sleep with him. That it was inevitable, and I'd only proved him right. I wasn't gonna fall asleep, not now. That was what finally got me out of bed and out from under his arm. I wasn't going to literally sleep with him.

I sat up abruptly and tore myself away from him. I felt completely gross. I was almost out of the sheet when it occurred to me that I wasn't wearing anything, so I jerked the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around me. That was enough to wake Derek up. I knew I was going to have to wake him up at some point, but I didn't want to have to face him. It doesn't get any more awkward than this. I told myself it was better that he was up now, and it was. I would've had to get him out of here eventually. I couldn't let him sleep here forever. Someone would find him eventually, and it was better to get him out as soon as possible. No matter how awkward the scene was. It had to happen, and I couldn't just leave him there. It's my room, after all.

Derek sleepily opened his eyes and sat up, stretching like a cat. His skin was still shiny. I hated myself a little for staring at his chest like I did, but it was like I couldn't look away. He smiled at me innocently, sweetly even. The sheet hung low around his waist... too low, almost embarrassingly so. I'm gonna have to burn those sheets. He had this sappy, completely lovesick look on his face, and then I felt so awful. Because I was going to have to crush him. I almost didn't recognize him; he was happy, for once, not smug or smirking or proud. Just happy, incredibly happy, and I'd made him that happy. You think you know someone. I clutched the sheet tight around me, unable to speak. "Hey, Case." What could I possibly say?

Derek leaned over, adjusting the sheets around his waist, and pulled me over to him by the arm. He leaned up to kiss me so fast I couldn't stop him. He was a great kisser, but I wasn't going to let him distract me. I didn't want to be distracted. I pulled back almost immediately. I could not let him just suck me back into that hole. Derek frowned a little, confused. He looked like he was about to say something more, but I interrupted by placing a finger on his lips. But, oh, what to say? "Derek, you need to get out of here," I said urgently, shooting a worried glance towards my (locked!) door. I turned abruptly so I could miss Derek's face falling. He didn't understand, so I explained further. "Derek, someone could catch you here. You need to get back to your own room... NOW!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice down to avoid waking anyone else up.

After all, Lizzie's room was across from Derek's. Edwin was upstairs, and Marti was just down the hall. Either way he was going to have to sneak past Lizzie's room, and above all, I did not want him to get caught, exposing my weakness to the whole damn family! I pulled Derek up, attempting to look away so I didn't have to look at him naked. It wasn't that a naked Derek was repulsive to me; more like distracting me from my intention of forgetting. Derek already wasn't going to let me do that, so I had to forget what I could. Derek wrapped the sheet around his waist in an effort, I suppose, to make me feel more comfortable. His frown had deepened. Panicking, I started to push him towards the door. "Derek, seriously! You can't be here!" I exclaimed worriedly, hearing my voice getting higher. Derek was leaden and unmoving like a stone.

He gave me this pained look, stopping me by putting a hand on my waist. "Do you regret this?" He asked sincerely, looking me in the eyes. I felt completely awful. He really meant it, and I did regret it. I already regretted it more than just about anything I've ever done. I couldn't possibly lie to him. He would see straight through me. I had to reassure him somehow, to lie to him... But how could I? I just needed him out of my room, damn it! I didn't need the guilt trip, the tender parting scene. I didn't want to crush him completely; I'm not that heartless. And I did have sex with the guy. I owe him that much, don't I?

What is proper etiquette for this kind of situation? I wanted to look away from him, but then he'd know that I was lying. Instead I just frowned a little and pushed him towards the door. "No, Derek... It's not that. I... I just don't want them to find you here. You could get in trouble..." I argued as convincingly as I could, plastering a sympathetic look on my face. Derek wasn't buying it, but I needed time alone. He didn't budge, so I bent down and started collecting his clothes. I threw the clothes at him a few moments later. He merely raised an eyebrow, curious as to why I needed him out of my room so badly. "Der-_ek," _I cried exasperatedly, pouting a little. I grabbed his hand. "I just... Derek, I need some time by myself. I need to think about things," I murmured softly, biting down hard on my bottom lip. He looked disappointed, so I leaned in extra close. "I need this time alone, Derek. I need some space right now. Sam just dumped me, and now there's you... And I need to sort things out. Give me this time, and I **promise **I'll make it up to you later," I pleaded.

Only I didn't want to make it up to him later.

And then I kissed him hard on the mouth to punctuate my statement and distract him. I got a little too caught up in the moment, but eventually I managed to tear myself away from him. Derek smiled at me and dressed quickly and haphazardly. His shirt was only half-buttoned and buttoned wrong, while the pants weren't even zipped. His jacket was in his arms as I pushed him out the door. Okay, so I was a little anxious to get him out of there. I peered out the door nervously, watching Derek walk down the hallway. There was a stupid swagger in his step. I scowled and waited until he had entered his room. I felt like I had to watch him or else he wouldn't be gone. When he'd finally disappeared, I quietly shut the door behind me and crumpled to the floor.

I banged my head against the door twice. There I was, back against the door, wearing only a dirty sheet. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a minute to think. But as soon as I'd closed my eyes, the visions came back, so they shot open again. I rose to my feet decisively, striding over to my bed. I had to get rid of the evidence. I couldn't bare to look at the dirty sheets... to just leave them all messy like that, piled on the floor, sweat and stains clinging to them. I couldn't just leave them for someone to find. I had to wash away the filth. In a flash, I stripped my bed, even the pillowcases. I threw all the sheets into a pile on the floor. Derek could still be up. It would be suspicious for me to wash them right now. I wasn't comfortable walking around naked in my room, so I picked up the clothes off my floor and pulled them on. I grabbed some new clothes and headed to the bathroom.

I made sure to shut the door behind me so no one saw my dirty laundry. I glanced down the hallway to see if Derek was anywhere in sight. I wasn't willing to check to see if he was asleep, risking another awkward conversation. Heaven forbid... Who would've thought I would ever see the day when Derek was actually asking about my feelings? The hallway was completely deserted. I snuck down the hall and dashed into the bathroom, feeling like a thief. I turned the water on, twisting the knob back all the way so that the water would be extra hot. I had to wait a while for the water to heat up, so I set my clothes down and started to unzip my dress. I thought I'd locked the door when it suddenly opened.

Derek came in, of course. I was having a bit of trouble with my dress, so he came over and helped me unzip it. He unzipped it easily, planting a stream of kisses down my back and smiling wickedly. I stiffened underneath his mouth; I was not in the mood. I thought I'd gotten rid of him earlier! Why couldn't he just let me be and sleep like a normal person? I didn't jump, but I pushed Derek away nonetheless. I pushed him away firmly, forcing a smile on my lips. "Derek," I muttered through tight lips, feeling myself tense up, "I thought I told you to go to bed." Derek smiled mischievously before pressing his lips against mine lightly, again and again.

He shrugged. "Have you ever known me to listen?" He mumbled flirtatiously, in between kisses. It was hard for me to push him off, partly because he was a very, very good kisser, and partly because he kept beating me to the punch only to do it again. When Derek kissed me, things got all muddled for me, and then I didn't want to pull away sometimes. Luckily for me, my brain was stronger than my libido. I managed, after a good while, to push Derek away for good. Admittedly, I was completely breathless and not thinking, and, thus, vulnerable, but I was even more determined not to repeat my mistake. Derek's eyes grew suspicious. "Why you need to shower, Case?" Derek asked in a carefully measured tone.

He was catching on to me, and I couldn't let him. But I couldn't say the truth... that I wanted to wash him off of me. I shook my head at him, frustrated. "Der-_ek! _I want to shower, and I want to shower alone. So out! Go to bed!" I shouted, paying no attention whatsoever to my volume control. I was pissed off and tired, tired of Derek. Derek scowled at me, but I shoved him towards the door nonetheless. "Derek, you are not getting lucky in _this _bathroom," I said sternly. His frown deepened, and I sighed, feeling frustrated. "I need to shower. Look at me, Derek. I'm gross," I continued bluntly. My hair was a mess. My make-up was smeared. Moreover, I was covered in Derek... his smell, his sweat, his... You get the picture. So I felt like total crap.

Derek, though, he just looked me over and got this big smirk on his face. At first I thought he was making fun of me, but that wasn't it. Then he smiled, really smiled, the kind that goes from ear to ear. "You're beautiful, Casey," He whispered before hugging me tightly. He would've kissed me, but I turned so he couldn't. The way he said it, it sounded like he meant it. He gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek before we finally parted, and the look he gave me when he walked out that door, actually doing as I asked for once... It was nice, heartbreakingly so, almost. Sam had never looked at me like that, and... the way Derek was looking at me, it was like he was the luckiest guy in the world. And I'd made him feel that way, but I didn't feel like that at all. And he was just so damn happy to be in my presence even if I was pushing him away.

It was like I didn't even know him anymore. He was defying all logic... Derek-logic, that is. You can't apply normal logic to Derek Venturi. I hated that I felt guilty whenever I looked at him. He just had to be so... nice. Which completely shoots to Hell everything I ever thought I knew about Derek. When Derek left, I locked the door and finished undressing, throwing the clothes on the floor carelessly. I stepped in the water, which was boiling... so hot it hurt me to stay in it. My skin burned, turned red, and it hurt. Oh, it hurt. But I deserved every fiery drop of the pain pounding down on me... my head, my back, my legs. It was a just punishment for my hypocrisy.

I had sworn vehemently that I would never sleep with him, that I would rather die. And yet I had. I kept thinking of that night, or, rather, only ours ago. I grabbed the soap with force, scrubbing my skin near raw. It hurt to think about it. All I wanted was to be clean. My thoughts kept going 'round and 'round, and I was trying to wash it all away. But the visions kept coming back, haunting me. I stared my own hypocrisy clear in the face, and I didn't like what I saw. I'd sworn for so long, and... and yet, when I saw Sam in flagrante delicto... I said I'd rather have sex with Derek than him. After all, I would be less likely to catch a disease with Derek. At least he was safe... usually. Not tonight. I hated that I remembered that, but even more, I hated the fact that I could possibly be carrying Derek's kid by now. The fact that his seed was in my womb still, fertilization or not, disgusted me so much that I nearly vomited.

I guess that one fatal statement turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. After all, here it was, not even twenty-four hours later and I'd already had sex with Derek. Had it even been five hours? But the more I think about it, the more I think that this was the way it hard to be. And as sickened as I was with myself, as full of self-loathing as I was... I almost think I needed to do it. I kept scrubbing at my skin, trying to get the feeling of Derek off of me. I remembered the way his body felt on mine. I remembered every last, lurid detail. I think I needed that, as much as I wish I could... I don't know... undo it. I needed something hard to start me on the path to getting over Sam. I needed to do it to somehow pay him back. And Derek did that for me, so I owe him for that. After all, what better form of revenge was there than having sex with my cheating ex' best friend?

None, of course. Still, I felt like a complete whore, and I was so utterly terrified that I could be unwittingly carrying a Derek Junior. I didn't even want to think of it. The hot water soothed my tense, pained muscles. My muscles were stiff; in my little encounter with Derek, I'd managed to tear muscles I wasn't even aware I'd had. The warm water helped by distracting me from the pain with its heat while helping loosen up my muscles. But the pain didn't go away, not entirely. The torn bits of me ached and swelled. My knees wavered; it hurt to stand for so long. But I gritted my teeth and held myself up high. Derek had left a mottled series of bruises down my neck, across my chest, anywhere he could. He wanted to mark me, I think, and I looked like a target, red and purple all over.

Water ran down my face, and I couldn't tell if it was the beginning of tears or merely the shower. Then I leaned against the wall, too tired to properly support myself for too long. And one minute I was shaking violently and crying silently. Suddenly I was sobbing hysterically, and I didn't really know why. I thought I'd cried myself all out earlier, but the tears came again, hot and fast. They streamed down my face, blurring my vision. I felt so dirty and so... low. But my thoughts all came back to Derek in the end, and the mere thought of him was enough to make me start sobbing with renewed vigor. I kept thinking of what I'd done, what I'd actually _agreed _to... And I was completely mortified and ashamed. Ashamed I'd said yes, ashamed I lied, ashamed of what I'd done, ashamed I'd practically begged for it, and even ashamed that I had used Derek, intentionally or not.

I sank to the ground of the shower as my knees gave out on me. And then I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid my head down on them and sobbed as hard as I could. I knew I couldn't cry in public, not after what I'd done with Derek. I couldn't cry about it in front of Derek. It would be some great affront to him to know how... deeply and terribly this had affected me. That's the problem in having sex with someone you live with. They can see you just about every waking minute of the day, so you have to be on guard and watch yourself. Can't let the guard down for even one minute. Derek was free to observe my every action, and if he wanted to... He could never leave me alone. So I used up those moments alone, the last I would truly have for a while. I don't know how long I cried; it seemed an eternity. I cried until I stopped, until I could rise. I stood and washed my hair, then I turned off the water and left the warm safety of the shower.

I wrapped a towel around myself, uncomfortable with my own nakedness. I toweled off my hair and dressed quickly to avoid looking at myself. I left the tainted green party dress in the bathroom. I turned off the lights, dashing to my room. I collected the laundry from my room, throwing my undergarments in with the sheets. All that washing and I didn't feel clean. I wondered idly if my sheets would be the same way. Then I took the bundle down to the laundry room and started a load of clothes mindlessly. I added a little bit more detergent than I'd normally use because the sheets were that much dirtier. After that, I grabbed some fresh sheets, went upstairs and remade my bed.

Even after it had new, fresh sheets, I couldn't sleep in it. I didn't even want to be in the room. I felt somehow like I could smell the sex in the air or something equally ridiculous. Either way, the thoughts wouldn't leave me. So I opened a window and went downstairs. I made myself a sandwich and watched TV until I could take the clothes out of the washer. By then, it was really late; it had to be a little past four. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I was utterly exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, there would flash a picture, an image of me and Derek. And then, like that, my eyes would bolt open in horror, and something would prevent them from closing in sheer exhaustion. Eventually, though, I dragged my tired body up to move the wet laundry into the drier, hauling myself back to the couch to watch some more TV. Some old movie was on; I was so tired I could barely follow it. When the load of laundry was dry, I retrieved it, folded it, and stashed the sheets in the linen closet. I put my clothes away, retreating once again to the couch because I couldn't stand my own room. I didn't want to have to sleep in Derek's filth... on the same freaking mattress that he'd screwed me on.

Eventually, though, I managed to keep my eyes closed long enough to fall asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I was covered in a blanket, and it was around nine-thirty. I stretched sleepily and walked into the kitchen. I was starving. I hadn't eaten much of anything at the party, so I'd gone well over twelve hours without sustenance of any kind. Besides, having sex sure did wonders for the appetite. I walked nonchalantly into the dining room, although I should've known I would stand out like a sore thumb. They're used to me waking up at seven every day. I never sleep in.

It was weird, too, for whatever reason, but I hadn't expected Derek to be there. I really hadn't. I'd kind of thought I could just avoid him forever. So of course Derek was there, mouth full of pancakes. As I froze the minute I laid eyes on him, I was glad he couldn't talk. God, this was awkward now. I could only imagine how terrifying it would be to be alone with him. I had to keep moving, though, or the family would get suspicious, so I tore my eyes away from Derek and went to go get pancakes for myself. Maybe if I just focused on my food I wouldn't have to talk to Derek. I grabbed a glass of milk and set my food down on the table. Naturally, I was seated across from Derek. What was I to do, then, if he wanted to play footsie with me? It was like God was playing a cruel joke with me, punishing me for what I'd done.

"Hiya, Casey!" Marti interjected cheerfully. I smiled at her as best as I could, bending down to pat her warmly on the head. It was an awkward, painful smile. A guilty "I had sex with your big brother" smile. I felt the pit in my stomach sink lower still. Mom and George greeted me warmly, fondly calling me "sleepyhead" and staring at me with innocent, unknowing eyes. I felt sick to my stomach. Lizzie also said hello, and I noticed a strange, curious look in her eye. She shot a glance to Edwin; they were always spying on someone. I gave her a lackluster good morning and returned moodily to staring at my food. I couldn't look her in the eye anymore, not after what I'd done. I was so much of a hypocrite. Marsha indeed. I stabbed at my dry pancake. I was starving, but I had no appetite. The thought of maple syrup, sugar-sweet and sticky, made me gag. Just thinking of last night disgusted me so much that I didn't want to eat again. I was choking on my own stupidity. Edwin smiled at me lopsidedly, babbling on about some science experiment. I faked a smile, which fell as soon as I turned my face downcast. Derek didn't even bother to say hello, like he thought it would give him away. Then again, I didn't want to see him, let alone talk to him. Maybe he knew that.

I kept my eyes on my food as much as possible, just waiting for the moment when someone would bring up Sam. No one but Derek even knew I'd broken up with him. I tensed, just waiting for Derek to say something. I could sense the words on his lips, ready to form. And I had all these words bubbling up inside of me, waiting to be said. I stuffed the food in my mouth fast so I wouldn't have to talk. I gulped down milk so I wouldn't have to answer the inevitable questions, but the questions were just that... inevitable. I couldn't avoid them, even despite my best efforts. "So, Casey, did you kiss Sam at midnight last night?" Mom asked in what she thought was a coy, playful tone of voice.

That made me glance up, unintentionally locking eyes with Derek. A look of understanding passed between the two of us, but Derek refrained from commenting. So I cut another slice of the pancake and took a deep breath. Someone had to tell her, and it was going to be me. I was tempted to say, "No, Mom. I kissed Derek at midnight." But I didn't because I couldn't. So instead, I merely cleared my throat and started to talk. "Actually, Mom... Sam and I broke up last night," I said in a calm, cool, casual voice. I inserted a piece of pancake into my mouth and blinked like it was nothing. But I was not so unaffected. My fingers didn't shake as I handled the fork and knife, but I wasn't okay. I glanced back down at my plate because I didn't want to see their sympathetic looks. I didn't want to feel their pity.

However, while I didn't look up and see it, I felt it nonetheless. "I'm so sorry!" Mom exclaimed sincerely, horrified she'd made a (bad) joke about it. I just shrugged, preferring not to dwell on it. It's bad enough he broke my heart; I don't want to dwell on it. I glanced up somewhat awkwardly, feigning nonchalance as best as I could. It was hard to do. I wished instead that they wouldn't talk about it so I could get it off my mind. As much as I love my mother, my sister, and our new little family... They don't know when to let anything alone, and by trying to help me, they're only going to make it worse. I don't want to rehash details.

"You didn't know," I muttered distractedly, shoving more pancake in my mouth. I was ravenously hungry, so the pancakes tasted like the best food I had ever eaten. I was not one to find comfort in food, but it was nice to be able to sit at the kitchen table with my blended family like nothing had happened. It was strangely normal, even peaceful, that morning, in a way it never was in this household. While I was eating, it was almost like Sam hadn't cheated on me, like I hadn't slept with Derek, like I was happy again. If I'm being honest, though, I haven't been happy since last year, before we moved in with the Venturis. I'd almost wish Mom hadn't met and married George, but I'm not selfish enough to wish away her happiness.

I could tell that Mom or George was going to offer up some more platitudes or apologies, like meaningless words of advice would make it all better. But they wouldn't; they couldn't. Words were just words. I didn't want to hear some stupid cliché when I knew it wasn't going to cheer me up. Time heals all wounds... blah, blah, blah. The apologies, though, were even worse. As far as I'm concerned, regardless of the politeness of the gesture, you apologize when you've done something wrong. Mom didn't make me break up with Sam. She wasn't the person who tore us apart. She had done nothing wrong, and the whole thing was Sam's fault. Neither Mom nor George could've stopped him. I wanted _him _to apologize. It's not her fault he's an asshole, so offering apologies in his name was just insulting.

I brought my chin up, eyes defiant and tear-free. "I'm not," I said so venomously, so bitterly that everyone suddenly looked at me. Their eyes were all full of surprise and disbelief, except Derek's. An odd sort of pride gleamed in Derek's eyes, the traces of a burgeoning smirk formed on his lips. Everyone had been stunned into silence save Derek, who was too wise this time around to say something. It's a good thing he didn't. I might've snapped at him. "I broke up with him, and it was the right thing to do," I stated plainly, bluntly. I wasn't going to let them think I was so pathetic that Sam had dumped me. I don't regret it. I regret that it had to end that way; I regret that I slept with Derek, but I didn't have a choice about the break-up. I didn't want to end it, but I didn't want to be humiliated either. He cheated on me; I had to end it. Derek was on the verge of a smile, a sickeningly victorious, happy one that I didn't want to see, knowing I'd been the one to put it on his face.

I shot him a sharp glance, returning to my pancakes. Better give them a chance to pick their jaws up off the floor. George was completely speechless. I saw the way he exchanged nervous glances with Edwin. I don't know why they're all so surprised; we broke up damn near every other week. Maybe it's because I'm not a complete sobbing basketcase this time around, and so they don't know what to do. Or maybe it's because they've realized that it's _for good_ this time. Mom could sense I was mad; I heard her gulp before she asked another one of those damn inevitable questions. "Why..." She began before trailing off, already at a loss for words. I rolled my eyes, but she didn't see me. Mom can be such a ditz sometimes. "What happened?" Mom questioned in a soothing voice. Still, there was that underlying hint of curiosity hidden in her tone, and I didn't want to satisfy it. It's my break-up; why do I have to answer questions about it? It's not like there's a gray area. He was cheating on me. I had to dump his sorry ass or play the fool.

I glanced up, exchanging a look with Derek. He looked almost sympathetic. He knew I didn't want to waste my time answering stupid questions and having everyone coo over me. I stiffened a little. Mom had asked me mid-sip, so I swallowed my milk and calmly put the glass down before answering. "He was cheating on me, and I caught him redhanded," I replied coolly, even frostily. This time, almost spitefully, I looked up to see the shock and horror on their faces. Mom gasped, surprised my perfect boyfriend turned out to be so flawed. The pity hadn't sunk in yet. Since there were children present, I didn't mention that I'd walked in on him fingering the school slut while a guy gave him oral sex in the bathroom. I should've known, too. All the signs were there, and I stubbornly refused to see them. I turned abruptly to face Derek, who suddenly snapped to attention. I swallowed my pride and spoke the truth. "Derek, I was wrong. I should have believed you. You were right," I said urgently and honestly, surprising everyone in the room. It was the closest thing he was getting to an apology.

Hell froze over last night when I had sex with Derek, so it's not that illogical. You can bet, though, that that is the only time I am ever admitting that I was wrong... much less to Derek.

If they were surprised before, they were even more surprised now. In fact, a cursory glance around the table confirmed my suspicions. Everyone except Derek was gaping at me open-mouthed, disbelief etched into every feature. Surprise glittered in Derek's eyes, but he didn't show it like the others. He frowned a bit, even managing to look a bit sad he'd been right. "I didn't want to be, Case," Derek murmured apologetically, giving me a look so unapologetically tender and downright loving that I did a double-take. Was this really Derek? I could tell he wanted to lean across the table and do something stupid like grab my hand in an attempt to comfort me, but it was a big table. And I kicked him hard under the table to remind him that the whole family was witnessing this. I took my hand off the table so he didn't get any funny ideas.

I finished breakfast in a blissful yet awkward silence (not that I minded). My mind cleared, and I didn't have to think about Sam... or Derek. It was nice to have a mind just completely devoid of thoughts for a change. For once in my life, I didn't give a damn about what anyone else thought about me. It was amazing how normally things went on... as if last night, that terrible night, had never happened. I rinsed off my plate, emptied my glass, and set them both down on the counter like nothing had changed. Lizzie was the first to talk to me. She just walked up to me and said it outright. "Casey, you look horrible," She proclaimed, glancing at me briefly. That, of all things, made me smile. I didn't need her to tell me that, but I nodded anyways. Why not, I thought? I felt horrible.

"I didn't get much sleep last night," I grunted, grimacing. I felt Derek's eyes burning into my back, but I didn't turn around to dignify the crude things he was thinking. I wasn't up all night thinking about him. I was up all night thinking about just how screwed up I am. And what the hell was I thinking? And... I need to stay away from boys. Lizzie patted me on the back, gave me a sympathetic look and told me to go sleep in her room. I smiled and ruffled her hair. I have a really great little sister. See how she didn't even ask why I was sleeping on the couch or suggest I go to my room? And that after I said all those awful things to her about Edwin. I felt a pang of guilt; I really didn't deserve Lizzie sometimes.

I wonder if she knows. I shuddered at the thought and almost ran up the stairs. I didn't want Derek to corner me. Don't get me wrong, I knew we were eventually going to have to talk and sort things out. I just wanted to prolong that and perhaps prevent it from happening. I don't feel the same as Derek, and I didn't want to say I used him... because then I'm no better than him. So I went into Lizzie's room and tried to fall asleep.

Although I closed my eyes, my mind was still awake. And still thinking about what had transpired earlier.

Funny, isn't it? My on-again/off-again boyfriend and I had broken up again... probably for good. I caught him cheating on me with not just another girl, but a boy too. I loved Sam, and I still love him. Yeah, that was a lie too. All this and I wasn't even thinking about Sam. He hadn't even crossed my mind other than that stupid conversation over breakfast. Derek was the one on my mind, going 'round and 'round in circles. Derek, Derek, Derek. He was on my mind an unhealthy amount before I even... before last night, when I was still with Sam, but now it was a hundred times worse. I'd had sex with him, led him on, used him in my own nasty way. He was in love with me... insanely and despite all rationality... and he thought I reciprocated somehow.

I don't even know why I did it. Why did I have sex with Derek? I was in a bad place last night... vulnerable. I didn't know what I wanted. My first love had cheated on me, and all rationality and faith in people had just flown out the window for me. But Derek was _there. _That was the problem. He was there, and he cared. He cared; someone cared, and Sam... didn't. I wanted someone to love me, but not just that... I wanted that great romantic love, the fairytale love. I was selfish and hungry and starved for love. Hell, I wanted someone who actually gave a damn about me. Just for a few lousy hours. I wanted someone who thought the world of me. Someone that loved me so much he wouldn't care how lousy I treated him. I wanted to have power over someone.

I thought it would help, like maybe a guy would want me if I wasn't so damn frigid. Because that's what Derek said, and what I always secretly knew. Sam wanted to get laid. That's why he cheated on me. And never mind that he never brought it up. He still wanted it, and the cheating proved it. So I guess women are just expected to give a guy whatever he wants. And I gave Derek what he wanted, but I did it under my own terms at least. I have mostly myself to blame. Still, he could've said no! He could've protested. He could've fought harder. He could've walked right out that door... but he chose to stay. He was selfish and chose to stay. I will never forgive him for that. He'll say he tried, sure, but in the end he's just like every other male out there: a pathological liar. He tried, but only so much... only enough so he could look good when I brought it up in an argument. So he could paint me as the whore. He was so desperate for it, to have a piece of me that he didn't even care how I felt! Not that Derek ever gave a damn about how I felt. No, he just kept pushing and pushing until I broke, and he got what he wanted.

But what about what I wanted?

What Derek wants, Derek always gets. Even me. But what about me? What about Casey? What about her?! Did she matter at all? Wasn't my decision important too? Why was I stuck accommodating him and his wishes again?

The crux of it is this:

**He took advantage of me!!!** Sure, I said yes at the time, but I didn't mean it! I didn't know what I was getting into! I'm not sure I even meant to... I was just confused and he was there. He was there, and he wanted me. So I lied and said I wanted him too, but I always knew I didn't. I knew I'd regret it, but I was so desperate for... for what, exactly?

I didn't want to, and I did at the same time, but that doesn't matter because I did it anyways.

Like a cheap, common street whore.

And it was stupid because it didn't make me better. I didn't feel better. It was good in the moment, but... It caused more problems than I had to begin with. Derek was in the right place at the right time, and he felt the right way. But stupid Derek had to grow some morals, so I had to talk him into it. I lied his way into my bed, into me. I said everything he wanted to hear, talked him into it. I became Derek, not just a part of him. We'd somehow switched roles with me being the instigator and him being the reluctant one, the denier. Only I didn't want to play that part; it wasn't me. I was just another big fat notch on Derek's belt. The ultimate challenge effectively conquered; Derek triumphs once again!

I wanted love, but I wasn't that desperate. It wasn't just that. If I really get down and dirty, it's really all about having power and control. I had complete control over Derek. I could've made him do anything I wanted to do. Just look at the way he acts now... even more in love with me. The sucker! Is he stupid? How many times have I told him that I don't, can't, and won't love him? I'm not gonna renege on my promises in one night, regardless of how Derek was in the sack. The way I feel hasn't changed one bit.

I had control of my own life for that shining hour or so. There was no Derek to thwart me and subjugate me. I got what I wanted, even if I didn't really want it. And for once, Derek didn't matter. I didn't even have to consider him. Control was really what I wanted. I wanted to control a man, to hurt a man. I wanted all the perks of the love minus the emotional attachment. Yes, I know how cynical that sounds. But I don't exactly believe in true love anymore. Besides, even if it exists, it doesn't work in my favor. I love Sam, and look how that ended up. Derek only thinks he loves me. By the time I'm done with him, he won't even want to be in the same room with me. I will break him and tame him, and then I will crush him. And then I will crumple him up and throw him away because, like a disposable tissue, he means nothing to me. He's just an outlet.

But it's not even just that control I lust after. And it's not Derek either. Revenge is what I wanted, and I got it. Sam doesn't even know, but it's so much sweeter that he doesn't. After all, there's no better revenge than screwing your ex' best friend. Especially if it's well-known that you never liked him and never slept with your boyfriend. Bet it'd taste bitter in Sam' mouth to know that Derek had me (and first)... when he never had and never would. I let out a bitter, amused laugh at the thought. If Sam can screw a whore, then so can I. Ha. Sweet, sweet revenge. In your face, Sam.

That was the best, most delicious part, the whole time knowing I was getting revenge on Sam. It was so self-gratifying to know that this was what it felt like. To give Sam a taste of his own bitter medicine, even if he'd never know. It was almost sweet, really.

But I wasn't such a bitch, and I wasn't so heartless, and I wasn't not completely broken up about it. I won't deny the fact that all of those awful things ran through my mind, and I even felt the littlest bit bad, the littlest bit guilty for thinking them. But I didn't owe Derek anything... not honesty and not love. Like repays like. He'd treated me ill for too long for me to not relish in it, just a little, the thrilling power I had over him and his heart. I couldn't be like I was before, and I had only men to blame for it. Dad wasn't around to protect me, Uncle Dennis left and didn't look back, George brought me to this hell-hole, Sam broke my heart, and Derek drove me insane. I wasn't gonna put all my trust and faith in some lousy, good-for-nothing guy. I resented Derek a lot. It wasn't fair to level all the blame on him, but he was the one who'd made me like this. I hadn't been the same since I'd moved in here, and I hadn't been happy. And it was all Derek's damn fault. Everything was always Derek's fault.

All this talk about sex, and I haven't even talked about the actual act once. I've been trying not to think about it. I'm- I _was... _a virgin. Thanks a lot, Derek. It didn't happen like I wanted it to. Derek was a little drunk, I think. I could still taste the liquor in his kiss. His kisses burned like a wildfire, searing all my senses. He didn't give in easily like I thought he would. That, like everything, was yet another battle of wills. Ironic, then, that mine was stronger. My only thought was just getting it over with... not love, not pleasure, not even really hurt. I wanted it over and done with; I wanted my virginity gone like that. But Derek didn't go fast at all. He took things slow, slower than he normally would. He was patient and polite and tender and romantic, and all those wonderful things, like a seducer of women should be. He took his time, lavished affection on me, made it last. That's why it's burned into my memory. With him, he made every moment count.

I actually enjoyed it, but I guess that was Derek's intention, wasn't it? I won't lie; he was a pro. He really knew exactly what he was doing, easing me into it like a teacher. I was almost impressed. I wanted it; I welcomed it. I even sort of needed it. I responded to it like a gleeful little whore, always craving more. I laid back like a soldier and took everything that he had to offer. It didn't happen just one time. There were many times. We went at it for hours, I think. It felt like an eternity to me, a sort of pleasurable torture. And I couldn't leave the bed for some reason. Derek was absolutely tireless. He threw all of himself into it, exerted all the force he had. Yet he was gentle with me, not rough as I'd expected he'd be. His hands were soft against my skin, and he left few bruises except the kisses across my chest, collarbone, and neck. His touch was light, sweet, not bruising. For once, he wasn't even remotely angry with me. He just stared back into my eyes, a soft smile on those lips that loved to kiss me. He embraced me; he kissed me, and he made love to me. Real love, I could tell, not the phony stuff.

But my feelings changed little, if they had even changed at all. I saw him now as merely tolerable, even gentlemanly. I was surprised that he treated women so well; I'd been so very wrong about him. He didn't make me feel like a whore while I was there, lying beneath him, lying with him. But I was one nonetheless. It made me like every other girl, and sometimes I really did want to be every other girl. It didn't feel like he'd done this to every other girl at school as he rained kisses down my face. Yet I could not get caught up in these illusions. I knew there were other girls; I'd heard them with my own ears. I was not like his girls, loud, giggly, raucous. I was quiet, only letting an occasional breathy gasp escape me, or a low moan or two. Derek was noisy in his own way, but quietly. He moaned softly, grunted, exhaled in relief. And I was glad he was quiet. I didn't want my sister to hear him, and she was just down the hall, as was Marti. How scarring would that be?

There was only the moonlight to see by, but by the end, I knew every feature of Derek's anatomy by heart... by touch. Parts of me almost cried out for him- almost, but not quite. I was not yet so low that I would mewl to get his attention. I whimpered once, the time he'd first thrust into me, and I'd felt completely torn up inside. I had been completely torn up inside, broken forever. I felt utterly empty too, devoid of feelings, even as Derek filled me up slowly, one step after the next; I smiled at the irony. I did not love him, but I was moved to a sense of gratitude to him, even companionship, some admiration. But I did not respect him a whit more. Every time he thrust into me I drew in a sharp breath, and every time he pulled out, I exhaled heavily, waiting for his return. But even as he made me delirious with pleasure, so sated and so euphoric that I could not remember my own name (and Derek was very, very, _very _good at that), I didn't change. I didn't relent. I just _succumbed_ (there is a difference)and felt a burst of warmth for him, but that faded with the afterglow.

Maybe that was why Derek tried to keep it going for as long as I could stand it. Until I was raw and dry and exhausted. My skin was hot, my face flushed, my eyelids heavy. The sheets were sticky with sweat and bodily fluids. And I could not breathe, not even draw one real breath. I was winded and panting. My chest heaved, and I collapsed, pulling away from him to find my breath again. He was good at what he did, and incredible in bed. This I knew, but I could've known it before actually experiencing it. I was a virgin before, so of course I'd idealize it, even if it wasn't the ideal situation.

The ideal situation, what I wanted, was nothing like what actually happened. It bore no resemblance to it whatsoever, in fact. The ideal situation would've been my wedding night, in the Honeymoon suite, with my new husband, my soulmate, the man I loved most in the world. It wasn't my wedding night. We were in my bedroom, a far cry from the Honeymoon Suite, with our siblings surrounding us. He was my stepbrother, and my boyfriend had just dumped me. Derek was neither a husband nor a soulmate. I wanted rose petals, scented candles, soft, romantic music, warmth, silk sheets, and privacy. I got silence, the sound of the pipes and the heater. I got a chill over my skin even underneath thin, worn cotton sheets, an old comforter, and we almost didn't get under them. The air smelled like my room, the way it always did. And the only warmth I felt was that of his body on mine. The only privacy I had was my locked door. It was all wrong.

While we might've connected on that physical level, we didn't mesh at any other. The physical stuff was easy; all I had to do was give in to my instincts, and let Derek guide me. It was a meaningful act, that I knew... had always known. But it did nothing, nothing at all to bind me closer to Derek. He'd only seen me naked and memorized the feel of my skin and been inside me. He didn't see who I really was at heart. We were not one, despite the momentary connection, because he could pull out, and we would still be separate people. I didn't need him to leave; I just needed him for that time. We weren't of one mind, and we didn't feel the same. It wasn't this intimately personal thing like I thought it would be. It was empty, just an act, some pleasure, but nothing lasting... nothing I could hold on to. It wasn't worth it. Not when it didn't mean a thing. All it meant was that someone wanted me and that I wasn't a virgin anymore.

The sex itself wasn't bad, but then again, how would I know? It was good, maybe even better than good, and it was easy for me to get lost in it. It was so much easier to give in than to fight him. But it wasn't like I was having sex with him. It was like I was someone else. Derek was someone else too. He was the exact opposite of everything I'd ever known him to be... tame, quiet, sweet, slow, lovestruck. Still, I sure turned the tables on Derek, now, didn't I? I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to do it again. All I want is to be left alone. Having sex with Derek was a mistake, and I'd take it back if I could. But I can't, so I just have to live with it. I'm not too good at just living with something, especially if that something's Derek. But I'll manage because I don't have a choice.

It hurts. I hurt.

And I wanted to have sex with someone I loved. That's all I wanted. But I didn't love Derek, and the guy I loved didn't love me... so I settled and just got the damn thing over with, ripped the band-aid off, well on my way to pretending that it didn't matter. But it did.

Yet despite all these thoughts floating around in my head, I managed to catch a few hours of blissful dreamless sleep. It's really amazing what sheer exhaustion will do to you. When I woke up several hours later, Derek was standing over me, watching me sleep. I don't know how long he stood there, but his face was expressionless. I opened my eyes and said nothing, merely staring at him as if daring him to speak. I was watching him wordlessly; neither of us said a word. Finally, Derek broke the silence. "Casey, we need to talk," Derek began ominously. It would've been ominous, I should say, were Derek and I in an actual relationship. He couldn't dump me, and it wasn't like I cared anyways. I'd only had sex with him, and a one-night stand does not a relationship make, especially with a guy like Derek. I wasn't expecting anything from him, and even if he made an offer, I wouldn't accept it or want it. I nodded in agreement and sat up slowly, feeling a little woozy.

I didn't know whether I should speak first or let Derek do the talking. Actually, I didn't even know what I could possibly say to Derek. I knew I would have to lie or at least camouflage the truth, though, so I waited for him to make the first move, so I could better size up my competition. I wanted to say something that would match what he said. He didn't smile, but I knew Derek was so happy about it. Honestly, though, I didn't expect much of a conversation. I didn't think he'd care after I'd given him the leverage he had over me. Besides, he _was _Derek, after all. I thought the conversation would sound like a typical break-up, only I could throw it in his face that I didn't even care and would love for him to leave me alone. I was all prepared to say this, but Derek surprised me. "Casey, I... I don't really know what to say. I know that you need time to think because what happened with Sam is all too fresh, but I need to know where we stand," Derek murmured with a surprising honesty. He glanced down almost shyly.

Derek was anything but shy, so this all came as a big surprise to me. For one thing, he'd actually listened to my request for time, although he failed to see that it was really just a way of stalling. For another, where we stand? Does he even know what that means? Where did we stand? I wondered what to say. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, but I didn't really know what he was asking, and I knew that a shrug wouldn't be appropriate. "I don't know," I said truthfully, licking my dry lips. I played with my hair, which was a mess of curls from sleep and air-drying. I was nervous that I would say the wrong thing; I didn't want to be too cruel. Derek had, after all, been there for me at a very rough time, and he'd been so kind to me. I felt a sort of obligation to him, even though he disgusted me. He was my brother, and I hated that I had to remind myself of that. He didn't feel like my brother though, not ever. He was always too old, too cocky, and entirely too... Derek... for me to believe that and accept him as my brother like I could do for Edwin. I tried in the beginning, but he just didn't fit in my life. Try as I might, I could never picture him as my brother because our lack of blood relation was only too obvious. We had nothing in common. I felt like such a hypocrite. It seemed like only minutes ago that I was telling Lizzie not to get involved with Edwin, playing tricks with her head. And what right have I to do that when I screwed Derek? I guess I was just trying to protect Lizzie from what I went through. I know Edwin's not that type of guy, but I can see it in his eyes... How much he wants to be Derek. How much he resents Derek and fears Derek and admires him all at the same time, and how much he hates that he has dark hair and dark eyes and an awkwardness about him that Derek doesn't have.

Understandably, what I said didn't seem to relax Derek, so he sat down next to me on my bed, strangely sober. He turned to look at me. "Casey, we can be whatever you want. It's your dec..." Derek offered, cutting himself off using the same words I'd used last night to trick him into bed. I'm so disgusted with myself; I can't believe I actually did that. How low can you go? Last night I could've won a limbo contest. My decision... right. I was backed up against a wall with no options, and I knew it. I was like a scared, hurt animal who lashes out because it's all it can do to protect itself. I had to control or be controlled. Derek cleared his throat and attempted to continue. "If you want me, I'm yours... If you don't..." His voice trailed off, closing the option to me. I wanted to know what I'd have then, but I knew anyways: nothing. Derek or bust, I guess. Maybe being alone would be a good thing.

I could literally feel the tension in the air. It was so heavy I could cut it with a knife. Derek's silence said more than he could. Derek's stare burned into me, but he didn't even notice how he was putting me on the spot. He just stared. I was under so much pressure. Pressure to give him the right answer, pressure to tell the truth, pressure to... I don't know! But I was about to crack. I could feel all my broken pieces straining and ripping.

I didn't know what I wanted. A very large part of me still longed for Sam. But I knew what I did not want, and I did not want Derek. How could I tell him that, though, without being a huge bitch? Simple... I couldn't. So I said nothing, avoiding making a choice like the plague. Derek suddenly grabbed my hand, leaning over to kiss me passionately. He started murmuring sweet nothings, like how much he loved me and crap about us, Heaven forbid, actually dating... And I could see it all happening in my head like last night all over again, but I didn't want it to. It was easy to get lost in Derek's kisses, but I didn't want him. And, for God's sake, we were in Lizzie's room in the middle of the day and the door was unlocked, even ajar! I pushed him away violently, rising to my feet combatively. I was literally itching to tell him off, so I did. And I didn't hold back. I had to make things very, very clear, or else he would misinterpret them.

"Derek, stop it! Just... **stop **it!" I shouted, shoving him further back. "I don't know what I want, okay?! I just broke up with Sam, and I'm not sure about anything right now. My world has turned upside down, and I'm trying to figure out a way to set it right again. Now is not a good time for a relationship discussion," I said much more calmly. Nonetheless, my frustration shone through. "I just got out of a completely awful relationship, and I'm not looking to get into another! Not now. I'm not ready for another relationship; I don't want another relationship. Do you realize that I've been in one relationship after another while I'm here? I don't need another on-again/off-again thing, okay! I need to be by myself for a while, Derek, before I even think about getting with another guy. I need to think things through. I need time," I continued, purposefully stressing how much I didn't want a relationship. That much was true. I didn't want another boyfriend, another guy to break my heart. I wasn't just going to jump from one guy to another.

I paused briefly to catch my breath. "And even if... Derek, you're my **stepbrother**!That's _wrong! _Practically incest. A part of me thinks of you as an annoying brother. I hate everything about guys like you. I hate everything you stand for, and I don't want to be a hypocrite. I want to be a good role model to my sister. I want a guy I can trust. And, most of all, we have nothing in common! Unless the same address, siblings, and school count," I snapped viciously. I knew all that would cut him; I visibly saw his face fall. But it was a valid point. We were related, not to mention that we had absolutely nothing in common. We are as close at it comes to polar opposites. Derek's face went blank, though; I guess so I couldn't see how much I'd hurt him. I knew I had, though, and I felt bad for it, but I was just telling the truth. Derek may be Lord of the Lies, but I believe in brutal honesty.

He shook his head, disagreeing with me as he was wont to do. "You weren't thinking about that this morning," Derek retorted irritably. He was right about that. I stiffened and had to physically restrain myself from blurting out that I hadn't cared because he was there. Derek stared at me coolly, calming down a little. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't think of me as a brother, Case, and you know it. Besides, you don't think everything in me rallies against you? I hate people like you, yes, but I love you _more... _and that's what's important," Derek hissed passionately. Derek's wrong, though. A part of me really does think of him like an annoying little brother... or like that annoying guy in first grade who tortures you and pulls on your pigtails because he likes you. I see his point, but I don't love him, so it doesn't matter.

"Derek..." I exclaimed exasperatedly. I was ready to tell him off again, to tell him all the reasons why it would never work. But then Derek gave me this look, and I stopped talking. I felt so bad. Love was written all over his face, and I knew I'd break his heart if I finished my sentence. Besides, when had Derek possessed a heart to break? He did now, and it would be cruel of me to ruin that for him. He kissed me softly, soundly, and then my eyes closed. This time, though, he didn't push it. He seemed almost understanding. I appreciated that. Derek pulled back just a little bit, just enough to whisper, "Give me a chance, Case." His voice was almost pleading. I paused to think about it. I didn't want to give him a chance, but where was the harm in it? Could I really even say no to him? I knew I could; I'd done it before... But could I break his heart like that? Unlike him, I have a conscience. I didn't know how to let Derek down easy. I knew how I felt and that wasn't going to change. What Derek wants, Derek gets, after all. So, against my better judgment, I nodded, but only slightly. There was _something _about Derek, wasn't there?

Derek smiled beatifically; I could see why all the girls fell for him. All the girls except me. Like I said, I needed to get over Sam, and Derek was a great distraction. And I thought about it, and I didn't want to be alone. Call me selfish, but I wanted someone to love me, just me. I wanted someone to lavish attention on me. Everyone else was so distracted, and it was kind of nice for a change. I can say a lot of things about Derek, but at least he cares. To be honest, Sam never paid half as much attention to me as Derek did. I was tired of fighting with Derek, so why not try it if it gets him off my back? I guess I still wasn't thinking clearly. I was thinking more along the lines of a truce and less of a relationship, really. Mutual benefits. I smiled awkwardly, even though it was a forced smile. "Take it slow," I requested quietly, but it was not a request. It was an order and Derek didn't even realize it. He was only too happy to obey me, like a helpless little puppy. He was still smiling like an idiot, so he nodded brightly and agreed happily. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head at the last moment (so that his kiss landed on my cheek- it was only proper), smiling shyly and pushing him out.

Maybe I was making a bad situation worse. I probably was, to be honest. I just wanted peace, and I couldn't just crush Derek. Was it the right thing to do? I don't know, and I don't care. I did the wrong thing in sleeping with him. I can't do anything worse than that. Besides, nobody has to know. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. Still, I was desperate to avoid Derek, so I went back to my room. I started reading Wuthering Heights for the escapism. We're going to read it next semester in English, so I figured I ought to get a jump-start. Derek would say that's so typical of me, starting on schoolwork on break. Then he'd probably smile wryly and try to distract me, or he'd send Edwin in to fetch me. I knew he'd mock me if he saw me, but not now. I had him wrapped around my finger; he wasn't going to say anything that could jeopardize him getting what he wants. But the whole reason I started reading the book was so that I wouldn't have to think about him. What better than the lives of fictional characters to distract me from my own messed up life? My thoughts, however, proved too distracting, and soon I put down the book, bored with its more-than-a-century-old prose. The thoughts came to me unbidden.

I dumped Sam yesterday. I kissed Derek at midnight. I slept with Derek this morning or last night... whenever. I was up all night thinking about it, about him. And now I agreed with him. I actually... Things are moving so fast, and I may very well have lost my mind. And I'm no better than Kathryn from Cruel Intentions; in fact, I'm worse. Sure, I don't have sex with strangers, and I don't snort blow from a crucifix. But I'm a hypocritical bitch just like her. She didn't actually have sex with her stepbrother; she just strung him along. And that's exactly what I'm doing to Derek... stringing him along. Why is it so hard for me to feel remorse for that? Derek doesn't know. That's what makes it so bad. He has no idea how I really feel, and he pretends to care, but he doesn't. He just wants _me._

I think that's kinda nice. To have someone who wants only me... someone who knows all sides of me and still likes what he sees. I never really felt like I could completely be myself around Sam and Max and you know, those other guys... I felt like they wouldn't like me anymore if they saw the real me. The neurotic, obsessive, freak me who grubs for grades and overreacts and is freakishly organized and trying to do everything at once and has trust issues and fixates on Derek. I don't have to hide myself, not really. Derek's seen everything now, and if he still car- loves me, then it must be the real thing, right? Everyone wants Derek, right? So maybe he's not that bad of a guy... Okay, who am I kidding? I think I was just about to call Derek a catch.

It can't be that bad, right? Derek's a great kisser and... Well, **and**! Plus, maybe this could be just what I needed. Derek doesn't believe in serious relationships or long-term commitments. After all, Kendra set the record, right? And even then he dumped her. It won't last long, and it won't be serious. Just a little fling, a passing affair, something on the rebound until I can get back on my feet. Derek can't be expecting too much, right?

I can't believe I'm actually rationalizing this. I think I'm going to hyperventilate. If I didn't lose my mind before, I definitely have now.

Oh, what have I done?!

Loren ;

Reviews are super appreciated, especially long ones. ;)


	19. The Moment

Oh, right. So I wrote this new fic, At Last, and it's up for a Fan-Fiction award for best UC. It's long (and a one-shot), not broken up into parts, and there's hints of pretty much every non-incest pairing under the sun. So, yeah, you can check that out if you want, and vote if you're so inclined. No big deal, really. Basically, the crux of it is this: Casey's getting married. And then it all goes downhill from there. ;) Yeah, it's messed up. But I just thought you might want to know, because that's one of the reasons why this chapter is so short. Actually, though, I might edit it a bit and add a little more, 'cause there was a brief discussion concerning Noel that I couldn't write and a slap, maybe. Really, though, it's not your average love story, or even really a love story... depends on how you look at it... maybe it's an anti-love story... which is why I like it, because there are parts of that story that are so personal to me.

Okay, so I've changed my mind about Derek's hair. The perfectly-sculpted bangs totally won me over. Plus it looks really good messy. Mm. And why is the restaurant called Smelly Nelly's? I can't imagine people would actually want to eat there with a name like that. Ugh. But I admire them for expanding into other sets. Oh, and what happened to Paul? He's gone! Lol. And Derek doing an imitation of Casey saying his name? Dead on. Lol. And hilarious.

Anyways, ignore that minor rant. There are more important things to be discussed. Such as, for starters, I never understand how off-hand comments can inadvertantly offend so many people. It's one of those annoying things about being a writer. People will attach connotations and symbols and so on to your words and your plot that you never intended. I don't like people using my own words to misrepresent me. It pisses me off. Like the whole accusing me of being racist thing. For starters, the character's views are not necessarily my own, although a lot of them are. Take Derek going on and on about girls, for instance. And his other guy-like behavior. Clearly that is one instance where we diverge because I don't have sexual fantasies about girls and I am not a guy, so obviously that part's FICTION.

Aside from that, Derek isn't racist anyways. I read those two-three sentences, and there's nothing offensive about them. When Derek said ghetto, he meant thug. He did not mean a racial statement by that. If he did, he wouldn't have bothered with a euphemism. Aside from that, the Great White North thing... That is not in reference to Canada's population. That is a nickname for Canada, probably because it snows so much. And then there was the Wiccan thing. Which, okay, Casey's views aren't my own either, considering I hate her and I would jump Derek. But when she was thinking that, she obviously wasn't thinking clearly. Or offensively, given that she was more concerned about the fact that she was a witch, and Derek was a devil, and witches were said to have slept with the devil in medieval times. And back then in the story she wanted nothing to do with him.

Now that I'm off that subject, let's see...

Finally, I'll admit it. This chapter kind of sucks. A lot. I was inordinately blocked on it. Derek's happy. I didn't know what the hell to do about that. So it's short-ish... and really, not that great. Lousy, especially the ending. It's mostly filler, actually, but it's important because it reveals a lot about how Derek feels about Casey. And how their relationship is going. And so on. The next chapter, I promise, will be more exciting, and, of course, a great deal more interesting.

Oh, don't own Life With Derek.

* * *

"In my house, I always get what I want."

* * *

This last week has been, I think, the happiest week of my life. Casey and I are... um... a we, I guess you could say. I don't know how to classify it because I'm pretty sure we are of two different minds on the subject. But me... I kinda think we're going out. I mean, sure, we can't go out in public, or kiss in the hallway and stuff- Don't get me wrong, though, I'm completely fine with that. I hate PDA. Well, not with Casey, but that's just because I can't. We always want what we can't have, and I can't have Casey in public.

Or at all, really. Lately, anyways.

Okay, so it's far from a perfect arrangement. Maybe I shouldn't have had sex with her right after she dumped Sam... although I wouldn't take it back for the world. No matter what she says, she's still not completely over him. I know that, and I hate knowing that he's still there in her heart... and I'm... what? Not? But she hates him, and that's good. No chance of a reconciliation. So we're taking things slow. Slow like a Special Olympic hurdler. Not to insult said hurdler, though; there's no way in hell I could jump a hurdle anyways. Because, of course, we can't go out, and we're never alone except for a few minutes a day before Edwin and Lizzie get home. We kind of hang out around the house lately, of course, but Casey picks a fight with me arbitrarily every time someone comes in the room so we don't look suspicious. Us getting along is... suspicious. I told her we could just say that I'm comforting her about Sam, but she won't take that for an answer.

Because, she insists, I really am not that nice.

I understand that she just got out of a serious relationship with Sam, and she doesn't exactly want to go jumping headfirst into something else right away. Frankly, I'm grateful she's even giving me the time of day, and even more glad she finally sees it. I almost lost my mind trying to make her see. She could've dumped me flat, you know, the morning after. She could've told me she regretted it, to go screw myself 'cause she wouldn't. She could've insisted it was just a one-night stand. It would've been so utterly easy.

But she didn't, and, for that, I am very lucky.

And also a very happy man. I take what I can get.

And whenever what I've got doesn't seem to be enough, I just remember that one night I spent with her, and I don't need anything other than the memories and the knowledge that I've got Casey in my back pocket.

So I try not to push her so much, but I do wish I got a little more. I love her, but I don't love her interrupting anything that might be vaguely considered a date by starting a fight so the family won't catch on. And I hate how we never get any time alone together. Even more, though, I hate how she can only kiss me for a little while, just a peck on the lips. And then the kids come home, or she shies away or whatever. She's so nervous all the time, too.

I try and make her relax, but she's always stressing about homework or someone catching us because she's paranoid. I'm no miracle worker. I can't change who she is, you know? I fell in love with Casey the Drama Queen. I knew what I was getting into, and I probably wouldn't love Casey if she wasn't an insufferable control freak. If you get rid of that, of her opposition, she'd be just like any other girl. And, obviously, I don't want just any other girl. I want Casey.

So I find it pretty easy to tolerate the stolen moments, her pushing me away (I was already used to that anyways), the frequent fights. Besides, the fighting was always really hot. A form of foreplay, really. But, of course, Casey doesn't realize that.

Unfortunately, it's also minus the sex.

Nevertheless, I am practically walking on a cloud here. Birds are chirping; flowers are blooming. I can't bring myself to be mean to anyone, anyone at all. Sunshine's coming out of my ass here.

However, being in a good mood has its downsides. These being that everyone can see it, and they try and take advantage of you. Now, okay, sometimes I'm more willing to be lenient than others, but I don't like people trying to twist my benevolent mood to their advantage. They should just relax and breathe easy. Never know when my angry temper might come back. Everyone knows I am not a forgiving man. I am also not one to forget debts owed to me. So I indulge their favors a little bit, but that means they owe me, and I know that someday I will call on them for repayment of that favor.

I'm not terrorizing the halls anymore or tackling anyone on the ice anymore. Or going at Sam, although I still hate him. See, now I've got the smug knowledge that I screwed his girlfriend, and that there's no chance they'll ever get back together again. Honestly, who would ever have sex with him after having me? And, let me tell you, that is one hell of a good feeling. Such a change in mood is pretty damn obvious. People give me weird looks, but I just give them one right back. I mean, what are they looking at? I realize I'm The Derek, and that they want to stare, because, well, who wouldn't? But there comes a point when it's just strange to stare the way they do. Plus, who are they to give me a look like I'm the weird one? Hello, I'm not the one who's a social reject!

I think I'll bribe Edwin tonight, so I can get a little free time to spend with Casey. Not that Ed knows that. He doesn't really care, though, since it allows him to get ice cream or arcade time. Or time alone with Lizzie, which is what I'm banking on. Since I'm feeling so beneficent, I've decided to help him land his stepsister like I did. It should be much easier for him. I figure all he needs to do is get his confidence up, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels. But it's weird. I've been watching them because half the time Casey still wants nothing to do with me- you know, pretense- and Lizzie kind of gets all flustered around him. So obviously she's crazy about my little brother, and yet she avoids him like the plague, and... here's the weird part... Literally flinches when he touches her. Even if it's just by accident.

So I think a little alone time will do them... and me... good. Especially me. I've been wanting to make out with Casey properly for the past week. I also conveniently tricked Nora and Dad into going out for dinner. And, because I've covered all the bases, Marti's going to be over at Dimi's house. She kind of hates Dimi, but I asked her to do it really nicely and said it would mean a lot to me if she went. Then she pouted because she thought I was going to get rid of her, and, admittedly, I was, but not because I didn't love her or anything. So I told her that I really, really, really liked a girl and wanted to impress her, and in order to do that, we had to be alone. I was going to order dinner (because as romantic as cooking is, food poisoning isn't) anyways, so it wasn't that much of a lie. And it didn't hurt anyone.

In fact, it was better not to tell Marti the truth because that would just confuse her. She is a pretty smart kid, though. Maybe she could keep a secret... No, too risky. Plus secrets are hot. Only... what if I'm Casey's dirty little secret? I refuse to be reduced to a song cliché. So I was walking down the hallways, smiling at random people, because, damn it, I was in a good mood. Sam came up to me randomly; my eyes narrowed and the smile dropped off my face. Oh, great. What does he want? He's crazy if he thinks I'm helping him. He's lucky I haven't creamed him for what he did to my Casey. I know what Casey would say if she knew I called her mine, but I don't care. It's out of affection, not ownership.

I haven't creamed him, of course, because I owe him. If he hadn't screwed up so badly and messed around on her, I would be Casey-less. And she would've continued hating me, never had sex with me, and I would never have finally gotten a chance. That's also one of the reasons why I still bother talking to him.

"So, D, what's up with this new mood swing of yours? It's like you're happy all the time. Did you win the lottery or something?" Sam asked, nudging me. I merely shrugged coolly. Phew, he's not about to ask me to do him a favor. Notice how he didn't ask me if I got laid, since I do that so much... well, less lately. Not at all since Casey. "You on something?" Sam continued skeptically. I shook my head hard. He knows I don't do that stuff because of hockey. Unlike himself. Sam's just careful for when they do the drug tests. He's changed so much since Casey, Round One. I barely recognize the guy. "E?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't question my good mood, man," I replied wisely. Then again, I was dating... kind of... his girlfriend. So I sort of owe him in that strange, horrible way. Which is only ONE of the reasons I haven't kicked his ass. Plus it's suspicious, and he's supposedly my best friend. Sam stared at me funny. Okay, he knew better than to question me.

"No, D, really, what is it? There's something different about you," Sam persisted annoyingly. Gah. He pisses me off. He's not going to leave this alone. Damn him. I looked for a way out, but there was nothing in sight. Great, just great. Stuck talking to the moron. Man, he's not even worth body-checking at hockey practice anymore. Especially since I think Sam might kind of enjoy that, after what Casey said to me the other day.

We were laying in Casey's bed the other night... last night, actually. It was kind of cute actually. She came to me right before going to bed when we were brushing our teeth. We can share the bathroom now without thermonuclear warfare. She was so nervous. She kept fidgeting and looking down and biting her lip in that special way that drives me crazy. And then she blurted it out right after spitting. Romantic, I know. I couldn't understand her, since the words all ran together, so I asked her to repeat it. She was blushing horribly; I guess she thought I was going to say no? So Casey asked slowly this time if I could maybe come in her room for a little while. I think I smirked, and Casey didn't look happy. She looked really nervous, which is weird since Casey never gets nervous around me. Flustered, yes, but not nervous, you know? Well, she has lately, but that's one of those things that drew me to her in the first place. She wasn't falling all over herself to please me.

In fact, she didn't give a damn, and somehow she made me care. So I smiled... a real smile, for once, and I don't smile, really smile, often. I said yes, of course. What wouldn't I do for this girl? Princess Casey had specifically requested my presence. In her _bedroom. During the nighttime hours. _Who was I to refuse? Now, she assured me I wasn't going to get lucky, but she was just having trouble sleeping, and she thought maybe having someone with her would help. Then again, if that was entirely true, then why wasn't she asking Lizzie or Marti? She left a bit after that to go change, and I went back to my room to wait the appropriate amount of time. Or until everyone was asleep. Obviously I couldn't barge right into her room and not come out. It would raise some unwanted questions. Still, it was driving me crazy knowing she was only a wall away. Maybe I should look into a secret passage between our rooms...

Eventually I was so wired I couldn't do anything except stare at the clock, so I went in to check on Marti. She was sleeping peacefully. I peered in Lizzie's room; she was asleep too. I wasn't going to bother checking in on my own brother a floor up... Plus, think of the questions I'd get if he was actually awake. Edwin's a pretty observant kid. He'd know something was up. That being done, I turned off the hallway light and slipped into Casey's room as silently as a ninja. She was up and already in bed, waiting for me. She wasn't wearing her typical pajamas, but this pink silky camisole and short set I'd never seen her wear before. New clothes, for me? I felt rather flattered.

I smiled, and Casey smiled back, albeit rather awkwardly. She was practically shaking, so I turned off the light, pushed the covers aside, and joined her. She was completely freezing, so I wrapped my arms around her. She kind of flinched and jumped a bit, but I didn't let that deter me. It took a while, but she relaxed. She couldn't go to sleep, though, so we started talking. She brought up that Dean guy, and how he was the one who Sam had cheated on her with... And I was like... _oh. _She said it so calmly; I was kind of surprised. Maybe she's more over Sam than I thought. And then I remembered that the guy kinda looked a lot like me, which creeped me out because, ew, Sam fantasizing about me? Reminds me of when I made out with Vicky when Casey was what I really wanted. Except worse because Sam is supposed to be my "best friend" (ha!), and he's not supposed to have a crush on me.

Casey had a good chuckle about that. We talked a bit more and then we both fell asleep. We didn't do anything, just slept, but it was nice. I haven't slept that well in a long time. First morning I've woken up without a headache, too... one damn hangover after another. I had to sneak out of her room in the morning, but other than that, it was pretty damn comfortable. The benefits of hooking up with your stepsister.

Ah, good memories. When I snapped out of it, Sam was still staring at me strangely. Oh, great. He kept staring until I had to say something about it. "Fine! Okay. Fine. I'll tell you," I growled irritably. That was a bit louder than I intended. I don't do public displays of emotion. It blows the cool factor. Sam gazed at me expectantly. "It's my new girlfriend." Sam smiled slyly, like he was trying to smirk like me. Ugh. Pretending to be me? How low can you sink? My lips curled up in a grin; well, at least I'd finally stolen that girlfriend away from him. He acted like he was talking about something that he knew anything about.

"What's her name?" Sam quipped amusedly. Who is he to be amused? I see that look on his face. He thinks I'm whipped. What am I, cream? Psh. Derek Venturi does not get whipped. I'm in love with Casey, but I haven't changed. I'm still myself... just a happier, more satisfied version.

Well, I couldn't very well tell Sam her name. It would be kind of obvious. After all, how many Caseys do you think he knows? So I had to think on my feet, which is nothing unusual. I didn't have a lie already prepared, though. So that was kind of annoying. I paused for a moment, and then it came to me. I smirked. "Riley," I replied easily. Kudos if you get the reference. I know my dear "Riley" would. Ugh. I sound like a sap. Sam nodded approvingly, like he knew what the hell she looked like. He gave me that secret guy look like... "You're getting laid, right?" Which I didn't exactly want to discuss with him, since he'd, well... been there... first. Ew. Or maybe he hadn't.

Maybe it was some other guy. Casey told me I wasn't her first. No big deal, she said. That was an... awkward conversation... Especially since what I thought... Never mind what I thought. Sam asked for details of the "babe" I was dating. I shrugged and told him my norm. My type is girl. Blondes, brunettes, redheads... Although I do tend to go for the brunettes. The blondes are special exceptions like Kendra and Sally. Especially Sally. I don't think I _ever _really got over her. Maybe 'cause she never went out with me. She's no Casey, though. But I shrugged and eventually said she was a brown-haired, blue-eyed knockout. That's what I was supposed to say, anyways.

I couldn't very well say, oh, yeah, I'm dating your ex-girlfriend. As immensely fun as that would've been. I found I was looking for Casey in the hall, but I didn't see her anywhere. Damn that girl and her keener habits, always having to get to class on time. There's no one around to rescue me. Eventually, I couldn't take Sam's stupid leering and question-asking, so I made an excuse. "Oh, look! I think that's Kendra... coming this way! Gotta go!" I exclaimed dramatically, running in the opposite direction. In reality, I hadn't seen her, and I was going to class... a bit early for me, but Casey's into that sort of stuff. She's in my first hour, so I guess she'll appreciate it. She loves that sort of academic crap.

You know, I actually did my homework for her yesterday. It's a shame, really, but I have to pass, and Casey's just so willing to help... And, okay, I'm not really the moron I pretend to be. I'm just lazy. Plus it gives me the perfect excuse to spend time with her, and about half the time she's bent over, looking over my shoulder and close enough that I can feel her hair on my shoulder... and she smells so good. So this whole dating Casey is doing wonders for my GPA. So I went to class and snore... But Casey was there, so I had some minor entertainment by watching her. And watching other people and making sarcastic comments.

Unfortunately, I only have like three or two classes with Casey, so I remained bored in class. I kinda just turned in my homework and daydreamed. I might be with Casey, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna suddenly turn over a new leaf and start taking notes. Imagine my surprise when I emerged from sixth period (one of those hours I don't have with Casey), and while walking down the hallway as cool as can be, saw my dear stepsister being harassed by some jocks. From the football team, no less. You would really think they'd know better. I mean, hello, Big Ryan is afraid of her, not that they probably know this, but they do know not to mess with her.

I blame Max. They had this really ugly break-up a while back. She broke up with him and ugh. It was just bad. Catastrophic, really. So Max made her look really bad to his teammates, I guess, because he was so pissed that she'd dumped him. It was a public break-up, and very well known that she'd dumped his ass flat. I heard some of the stuff he said afterwards from one of my sources (a.k.a. Ryan, who, despite his hatred of me, respects a lady, especially Casey)... Not nice. He called her a slut and said awful things about her. I believe he said she blew the whole hockey team. That's ridiculous, of course, since she only ever dated the one hockey player. Well, two if you count me, but I'm not sure you can. And all that stuff with Max basically pushed her back into Sam's arms.

I've made it pretty clear not to mess with Casey on account of how many times I've saved her ass from ridicule. It's not easy to do, I tell you. But I stopped the Klutzilla thing and the Grade-Grubber thing... Even I, however, can't stop gossip. I kept it confined to the football team, though. That's really a small feat, but it was all I could do.

Now, let it be known that I hate the football team. I hate football period, actually. For one thing, it's an American sport. I resent the encroachment of America into Canada. I don't like blending our two distinct cultures, and football is a huge sign of this. Okay, I mean it was kind of invented by Canadians too, but football isn't really Canadian at all. Especially since half of the CFL is American (and not only that, but Americans who couldn't cut it in the NFL). Aside from that, depending on the country, it can also mean soccer, which makes it rather confusing. Besides, hockey takes more skill to play anyways and no one in Canada watches Canadian football. I mean no one. That's why CFL teams are always folding. Both of the Ontario teams went bankrupt, and no one in the CFL gets paid anything compared to the NFL. So it sucks.

In football you run and get tackled. Big deal. That also describes my relationship with Edwin, only I obviously don't want to score. Although if you put it in that context, you could apply it to my relationship with Casey: run (her), tackle (me), and score (me, finally!). Touchdown!

But right. I hate football. I hate how all the cheerleaders come to their games. I hate how they get all the attention. I hate how people think it's so much harder and that they're so much stronger than hockey players. Contrary to what Casey thinks, hockey players are very muscular. Look at the Olympics, for instance. There's a reason we have so much padding and helmets and the like. It's because we fall on our asses on the ice, get body checked, pressed up against the glass... not to mention the fights. Plus, we hockey players have fantastic dental insurance, since losing teeth is pretty common in the sport. So you tell me which is harder: skating while trying to shoot a tiny puck into a goal with a stick AND avoiding the other players or running with a pigskin and avoiding getting tackled.

Hockey owns. Duh.

So, with such a deep-seated resentment for football, it was no wonder that I started that fight with them. It wasn't even because Max started going out with Casey, although that pissed me off (guys like him are always trying to steal something from me). It was because I genuinely despise football. And now, here were his cronies, picking on my girl in the middle of the hallway. Okay, so it was really kind of a dark corner, but still, they were harassing Casey, _my _Casey. Obviously I'm not just gonna sit around and let that happen. God. Max can't even do his own dirty work. He has to get these losers to go bother his ex-girlfriend for him. Besides, why is he even bothering? He's back with Amy again, and he knows Sam just dumped Casey.

Dumb jock. Football players are so dimwitted. And yes, I see the irony in that statement. But I'm scrappy, remember.

I mean, I knew something was up at school, but she would never tell me. I never knew it was this bad, you know?

So they'd taken her schoolbooks and were teasing her something awful, like I would do except worse. This one sleazeball was coming on to her. Can you believe him? He actually thought he could touch her. As if I wouldn't rip his arm off for attempting it. Casey was, of course, protesting, but it wasn't doing any good, so I took that as my cue to step in. "The lady said no," I seethed. I flung my books (since when did I actually carry books?) in some passerby's arms and stalked over to them, ripping the one guy off Casey and swiftly punching him in the gut before I whirled around and snatched her books from one of the other dummies. I handed the books to Casey calmly before turning to survey her bullies.

Cowering, sniveling pansies. Half of them had run away. Of the few left (the winded guy and two others), I quickly found the leader. I found him because he was obviously the biggest guy. He wasn't hard to miss. There he stood tall like a juggernaut. One would expect me to cower from such obviously bigger competition, especially since he made Ryan look like a harmless little chewtoy. But the guy was messing with my girl, and for that he had to pay. I would've gone outside with him, too, even if I got my ass kicked, just for the record. Like I told Casey, there are worse things than physical pain, and half of being tough is being willing to risk getting a little roughed up (plus, doesn't it make you a lot tougher if you go out to fight knowing you'll get your ass kicked?). Both Ryan and Mondo a.k.a. the giant guy standing in front of me. Although Mondo's name is really Dick. So, upon finding the leader, I clamped my hand down upon his shoulder (not exactly a wise move). "Dick... I think you and me need to have a nice little chat. Walk with me, talk with me," I demanded in a tone that left no room for questions or defiance.

Not that Dick is smart enough to ask a question, let alone spell or even correctly write a question mark. The guy makes me look like Einstein. We were walking casually down one of the more deserted hallways of John Sparrow Thompson when I turned to him, and the smile dropped right off my face. "Don't mess with my stepsister, Dick. What part of that don't you understand?" I damn near growled. Mondo actually looked sorta scared, which is shocking. Apparently I'm intimidating. He just shrugged, and I wanted to kick his ass. "I thought Ryan made it pretty clear to lay off her," I continued frostily, "so why didn't you listen?" Dick just shrugged dumbly.

Everything he does is dumb. Can he even speak? I mean, seriously. "Well, Max said to... And Max is the captain, so I have to listen to him," Dick argued moronically. Ha. Like I was gonna see that logic. I hate Max, remember? Nah, actually, I secretly hate him but pretend to get along with him. Man, when did I become such a girl with the frenemies and what not?

My eyes narrowed, and my pace slowed as I turned the full wrath of my gaze on unsuspecting Dick, who clearly deserved it. "I don't care what Max said. I care about what I said. And, as hockey captain, my authority over this school supersedes anything Max can claim, so you'll be listening to me from now on," I snapped authoritatively. Dick stared at me blankly. Oops. Did I use too many big words? Stupid caveman. I faked a smile and repeated myself in simpler terms, being sure to speak more slowly so that he'd understand better. "Me no Max. Me no care what Max say. Me captain of hockey team, so me more important than Max. You listen to me now." Patronizing, yes, but oh so fun.

Even more so since he didn't realize I was making fun of him. He just nodded like a simpleton. Then I stopped walking and grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. I got a little up close and personal, in his face a little. You know. "And I say don't mess with Casey. I don't want to see or hear about any of your goons touching Casey. You are not to even glance at Casey in the hallway. If I so much as see you looking at her, I will make it my business to put a stop to it once and for all... or else. Got it," I hissed threateningly, maintaining my fierce grip on his shoulders. Shocked, Dick nodded hesitantly. Not as enthusiastic as I would've liked. Alas.

I felt a need to say something that would really end them messing with her. No one messes with my sister but me, you know? Well, not just that, of course. No one messes with my girl, period. So I let Mondo go, but I didn't back away. "Tell Max this, okay? Casey should be treated as if she is my real sister. As if she is my own flesh and _blood. _Nothing less. I refuse to put up with someone harassing any member of my family, especially one of my sisters. As long as I'm still breathing, no one at this school will show a single relative of mine disrespect, got it? Especially not Casey, my favorite stepsister. So you can tell Maxi-Pad that if he says even a single word about Casey, and it gets back to me... and it will, of course; it always will... then he'll have _me _to deal with. And, unlike Casey, I'll put up a fight. I don't care if he thinks he's stronger than me; I will beat him. I'm just looking for a good excuse to kick his ass," I snarled venomously, fully ready to follow through on my threat. I gave Dick a challenging look, ready to go right now.

But Dick merely cowered and nodded fearfully. He'd gotten the message, all right. Just as I'd planned. All of that was true, if you rule out the brotherly impulses. Everyone knows that I will never, ever consider Casey my own flesh-and-blood sister. Maybe flesh and blood, but never a sister. Gives it a bit of an incestuous angle. "Got it, Triple-D. Casey's family, and family is untouchable," He repeated numbly. I nodded, feeling the smirk spread across my face so easily. Wow. He got it fast. "I'll tell Max," He parroted back as if I actually cared. Screw Max; that's my opinion. Like I care what ugly boy thinks (Max, not Mondo). I nodded dismissively and brushed him off, stalking back down the hallway to where I'd left Casey.

I had to make sure she was all right. I came back as fast as I could. I was practically running. When I got back there, though, the hallway was strangely deserted. It was almost impossible to tell that anything had happened there, except that one guy was still there, holding my books. I smiled, thanked him rather curtly, and turned and walked down the hall. The bell rang, and I was officially late for class. Honestly, I was sick of school by that point, and Casey had run away from me, so I decided to skip class. I mean, why stick around? I'd made it through quite a bit of the day. It's not like it's going to matter in the long run.

Besides, I was craving a smoke. I have a bit of an oral fixation, plus I needed something to do with my hands. Obviously I couldn't do what I usually did, which was find a bimbo and have me some fun. I'm obviously not gonna risk that, since that's what got me in Casey's inner circle... Sam cheating on her with a cheap bimbo. I, obviously, have better taste. So I had to go find some place where no one would look for me or see me. And then, of course, I had to avoid the stoners because, hello, I have a reputation.

And that reputation is not one of a moronic pothead. I mean, I know what people think. I'm a growing boy, and I eat a lot. And maybe I'm kind of chill and not known for being smart, but I am not a pothead. Besides, it screws with your head. Plus I have this thing about how I like to remember things. Unfortunately, however, the stoners have the best hiding spots. So I was stuck hanging out by the huge-ass pine tree, which was cold and dark. It was also snowing, so it made me feel somewhat like an adventurer, lighting a cigarette out there in that wind and wetness. There were all the makings of a pretty bad surprise blizzard.

But I wasn't gonna be a loser and smoke in my car. Even if it was heated. Casey hates that, and Dad and Nora don't know I smoke.

So, as soon as the period was over, I decided I could take it no longer. Shivering and willing to admit it, I practically ran inside. Ironically, the breath was kind of frozen and suspended inside of me, but I ran despite my discomfort. I ran inside, shook the snow out of my hair, and arrived looking flushed just in time for the bell. I plastered on a ridiculously bright smile and dusted the snow off. I really was intending to go to class next, because it would look bad if I didn't. Besides, the nurse owes me a bunch of favors due to Sammy, so... I've got a free pass, basically.

I was taking my sweet time getting to class when suddenly I looked up and saw Casey. Imagine my surprise when she grabbed me and started pulling me down the hall in that very Casey way of hers. I figured she was mad like she usually is, but I didn't do anything other than smoke... And, after all, I'm killing myself. Not her. It's not like I'm even going to kiss her or touch her or anything, so why is it her business? I just kind of went along with her for the ride.

She dragged me down the hallway to a more secluded area, presumably so she could bawl me out for... whatever. Oddly enough, that was not what she did. "That was nice, what you did back there," She admitted somewhat awkwardly. I blinked in confusion. Did Casey just call something I did nice, and, thus, by an extension, me? So wasn't expecting that. Then her eyes hardened, as if she had to make up for being nice to me. Which she does, apparently. Casey slapped me on the arm swiftly. "What were you thinking?! You could've gotten hurt! Dick is a thousand times bigger than you! He could've ki-" Casey exclaimed almost hysterically. I was surprised, honestly, because since when has she really cared about my body being whole?

She used to relish in my pain, although she didn't want to see me beat up that one time. This is probably just the same thing. I interrupted her with a wry smirk (she was still holding my arm). "I seriously doubt that." Casey made a face at me, clearly knowing exactly what it meant. She ruined it, though, by looking away and flushing horribly. It was so cuute. Made me feel all proud. Finally, she managed to clear her throat and speak again.

"He could've killed you, Derek!" She gasped. She actually looked a little scared. I couldn't help but smile, and Casey stared at me incredulously. I just shook my head. He wouldn't have dared.

"Like I was going to let anyone mess around with my... you?" I retorted, stuttering a bit when it came to that last word. I didn't want to call her my sister, but I couldn't call her my girlfriend either. And then there's the fact that Casey, as a feminist, hates being referred to as a possession. I coughed and made my voice a bit more gruff to compensate for my slip. I messed up Casey's hair a bit, almost like I would Edwin's. "That's my job," I replied proudly. Casey looked none too amused, yet she said nothing. I like to think it's because she feels she owes me for rescuing her. Some knight I am.

She looked mildly annoyed with me for a moment, but suddenly her annoyance evaporated. "Well," She exhaled, "At least you make it remotely challenging." A frown crossed her face, but it wasn't because of me this time. "Any idea why they all ganged up on me?" She wondered, shooting me a knowing look.

Honestly, I didn't want to tell her. I knew it would hurt her or she wouldn't believe me or whatever. I had to, though. It was what she was expecting. "Max... He told them to..." I elaborated as best as I could. Talk about awkward. I could see the question in her eyes. Why? Why, indeed? Well, what am I supposed to say? I have no flippin' clue why her ex-boyfriend is such an asshole. "I told Dick to tell Max to lay off. He'll get the message, Case," I assured her, straightening up a bit. Casey bit her lip and nodded, but she looked worried.

Though I am far from a patient guy, I waited for her to elaborate. "What are you going to do if he doesn't? Max is bigger and taller than you, Derek. He could..." Casey protested. I shot her a look. What is up with her thinking I can't take care of her? That might be true, but I could seriously kick his ass. I'm the angrier one, and that's a better energy. The anger would numb any pain. See, Max wouldn't care, but I do. Casey keeps thinking I'm gonna get my ass kicked, but I wield a lot of power here.

I usually avoid fights because everyone knows full well how I can ruin someone's social and school life. Look what I did to Casey, for instance. It's a good way to keep her all to myself, though. I shook my head, silencing her. "I would kill him, Casey," I said quietly. At Casey's astounded and simultaneously horrified look, I continued. "There are other ways of committing homicide. Social homicide, for instance." In this case, however, I do quite mean it in the physical sense. There's more gratification in getting your own hands dirty sometimes. I make an exception for Casey.

She nodded like she understood, but I could tell something was off. She stared at me in silence, biting her lip. It was awkward, to say the least. I smiled, trying to alleviate the strange tension. It really looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't. I wanted to know what it was. Finally, overcoming her reservations, she started to talk, a panicked look in her eyes. "I heard an interesting rumor today," She began. At first she sounded almost weak, but then her voice hardened a bit. She sounded more like herself. I nodded dully. Big deal. Since when is Casey a gossip-queen anyways?

Oh, right. Em. "Emily heard from Sam, who's been telling everyone that you have a new girlfriend. Named Riley," Casey stated plainly, placing her hands on her hips. I couldn't tell whether she was mad or amused. Whether she thought I was talking about her (I obviously was) or... if she was jealous. Crossing my fingers behind my back, I hoped it was the latter. That she was amused, although jealousy is good because it means she cares.

I smirked familiarly, eyes glinting. "You like it?" I asked airily. I could tell from her look that she got the reference. She rolled her eyes at me a little, but she looked pretty amused. Not exactly the best memories, but I stood up for her. Besides, Casey knew full well I couldn't say her name. She was staring at me questioningly, almost challenging me. I guess she wanted to know if it was true but was too afraid to say anything.

I wasn't gonna make it that easy for her. I wanted her to ask. It's not that I didn't know the answer already. I don't say things that I don't mean, unless I'm lying. Contradiction, I know... But I wasn't lying about that. I didn't even like that she had to ask, but we weren't exactly the type for a relationship discussion. I know it's not serious enough yet. Girls like to know, though, they like to ask. I hate those sort of conversations, though, but it bothers me that Casey's afraid to have one.

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably just a few moments, Casey broke the silence. "Am I... Um... Do you consider me as a... You really think of me like that?" Casey stuttered, looking nervous and excited. I didn't move my head or say a word. I was waiting for her to really spit it out. It took her forever to get the message, and I was kind of worried she wasn't going to get it at all... or, that, worse, she would take my silence for an answer. "Derek, is it true? Do you think of me as your girlfriend?" She continued anxiously, eyes sparkling. I liked the look of that. I liked it a lot.

"If you want to be, then you are," I replied casually, shrugging like it was no big gesture. It was giant, though, and Casey knew it. Then I grinned hugely, because Casey actually looked happy. The happiest I'd seen her in days. It was nice to see her like that, and even nicer to know that I made her happy.

God, I'm a sap.

And what am I thinking anyways?! The girl just got out of a serious relationship. I seriously doubt she wants to be in another one, much less with me, the biggest playboy in school.

Not that I'd cheat on her. I'm not that stupid.

And since when is this taking it slow? Like she wanted. Slow. Then again, if I slept with her before ever asking her out when we weren't anything more than siblings, isn't that taking it fast, so it's kind of an oxymoron? Man, I'm stupid. And confused. And an idiot. We've barely been doing this for what, a week or two, and I'm already asking her to be my girlfriend? I might as well have proposed! She must think I'm completely crazy. In fact, she's probably laughing at me internally or externally or that's just a pitying smile. What was I thinking? She'd never actually want to be my girlfr-

Next thing I know, she's hurled herself into my arms, flung her arms around my neck, and she's kissing me like there's no tomorrow. And all those thoughts kind of just died.

If I were a thinking man, I'd wonder what the hell she meant by that. But there really isn't much to wonder, and I'm not Casey. Unlike her, I can just enjoy a moment.

And trust me, I enjoyed that moment to the fullest. Who knew Casey could hold her breath that long or do that thing with her tongue? I mean, really... We wound up kissing so long that the late bell rang halfway through the kiss, and neither of us stopped, not even Casey. And you know how much she hates being late. Eventually, though, I was starting to see black spots from lack of oxygen, so we pulled away to catch our breath. It's funny how unimportant things like breathing are when you're around someone you really care about.

When I'd sucked in enough air to see clearly and regain my senses a bit, I just stared at her. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks were flushed, her hair was messy, and she was mine. All mine. Eventually, Casey's eyes opened, and she looked back at me. There was a rare, unguarded look in those fragile blue eyes. She was still panting a little, so I waited for her to catch her breath. I was having trouble breathing myself, waiting for her answer. I prepared myself for a no, steeling my nerves. Prepare yourself for the worst and then be relieved if it's not; that's my motto. What can I say? Life's hard, and it doesn't always turn out the way you want it to. You just have to deal with that.

Casey smiled at me softly, looking flattered. "Of course I want to be your girlfriend, Derek," She whispered breathlessly. Her eyes positively sparkled. She knew such a thing was not done lightly. Then she leaned in, placed both hands on the sides of my face, and kissed me again. She pulled away too soon afterwards, glancing around nervously in the hall. To check if anyone had seen us making out, obviously. I suddenly realized that she'd grabbed my hand. She smiled again (careful, I might just get used to that) and licked her lips. "We'd better find some place more private," She mumbled, beginning to walk down the hallway with me in tow.

I frowned, gaping at her. Okay, who is this girl and what has she done with my Casey? She must be a stranger, a doppleganger, some chick who just looks like her. This can't be Casey. Casey never skips class. She doesn't smile at me every five seconds. "Shouldn't we be getting back to class?" I asked, feeling somewhat strained. The thought that I might actually be resisting the urge to make out with her is unbelievable, yet I am.

Casey stopped, turned around, and raised her eyebrows at me. "Since when have you ever wanted to go to class, Derek Venturi?" Casey retorted with a wry grin. Oh, yeah, it was Casey, all right. I swallowed hard and shrugged. Since never, actually. Man, she's good. Sees right through me. "Besides, I don't want to go to class. We're late already, and it's the last hour of the day." Logic was her first argument, but I couldn't miss the whiny tone in her voice. It was working even before she added the next part. "I'd rather spend it making out with my new boyfriend..." She breathed, lips brushing against my ear, "if that's okay with you."

It was far more than okay with me.

I swear, that woman knows exactly what she's doing to me. And she is a cruel, cruel woman, but I love it. I love her. She knows full well the power she has over me and exactly how to wield that. Normally that would be scary to me, but I trust Casey. Wow. I've never trusted anyone except myself. Wow. There's a lot of power in that. It's completely terrifying, trusting someone this much. You never know if they're going to break you.

I didn't need to speak, though. I merely threw her up against the lockers and kissed her hard. I like the sound of that. New boyfriend. That's me. I don't have to be jealous anymore. I managed to pull away long enough to mumble, "Janitor's closet." We broke apart only long enough to dash to the closet and lock ourselves in. It would've been suspicious, us making out like that in the middle of the hall. Since I don't kiss and tell, I'll spare you the details. We emerged five minutes before the end of school (a good thirty-five minutes later), with rumpled clothes, mussed hair, and identical smiles on our faces. Then we pretty much ran out of school.

I sped all the way home, and Casey didn't complain once. On the way there I explained how I'd carefully arranged for us to have some alone time. You wouldn't believe how Casey's face lit up when I said that. She said she'd like that, that it was just what she needed. That made me smile. I didn't exactly tell her how I was going to bribe Edwin to take Lizzie out because I knew she'd disapprove. Casey happily started chattering on about the night we were going to have, as if I hadn't already planned it all. I fully intended to make the best of every minute, obviously, because who knew when we'd have more time like this?

Except at night, when everyone else was sleeping. This is one of those situations in which it would be really convenient if Casey's room was across the hall from mine. Unfortunately, it's next door, which means a longer walk, not to mention I have to sneak past Lizzie's room to get to it. Can you imagine how awkward that midnight conversation would be? "Well, Lizzie, I'm really sneaking into Casey's room so I can have sex with her. I'm in love with her, and she's kind of my girlfriend now. Lot to take in, isn't it?" Obviously that can't happen, so I have to be stealthy and lie.

Upon getting home, we made out a little more after discussing our dinner plans. Then Casey pulled back. "Not here, Derek! Anyone could walk in!" She went upstairs, ostensibly to change. Into something more comfortable. A.K.A. Something skimpy for me. I think, anyways. I waited downstairs for about ten minutes before dashing up the stairs. Sue me. I was excited, and I think I'm going to get some naked alone time with my girlfriend. Of course, I had to go get a thing or two from my room before...

And when I came out of my room, smiling as gleefully as a kid at Christmas, I ran right into Lizzie. She immediately started looking at me suspiciously. She knows when I'm up to something. Great. Why's she have to be so much like her sister sometimes? I glanced down the hallway, where I could practically sense Casey waiting. My throat went dry at the mental picture I'd just generated of her in the lingerie I bought her for Christmas. Methinks it will be a good investment, especially if I get to rip it off of her. It's bad to get turned on in front of Lizzie, though. I need to make her disappear and fast. Marti knows to go over to Dimi's on her own, but Lizzie doesn't know she's supposed to go leave with Edwin.

I decided to end it as quickly as I could. "Lizzie, ask Edwin to take you out to dinner. I'm having a girl over, and I want the house free of children or 'tweens for as many hours as possible. As long as you're back a couple minutes before Dad and Nora show up, you're good," I ordered imperially. Note that I made no mention of the girl's identity, or that she is Casey. Lizzie obviously didn't listen to me. I hate her backbone and really wish she'd grow out of it.

She looked like a scared, defiant little rabbit. I rolled my eyes. Get over yourself. She listens to Casey too much and too hard. "I don't care what Casey told you. You like my brother, and he likes you. That's really as simple as it is. If you're careful, and you leave right now, Casey won't find out. What Casey doesn't know won't hurt her. You can be alone with my brother... leave Casey to me. I'll distract her so much that she won't even remember she has a sister," I declared boldly, tempting her.

Lizzie's jaw dropped in shock. I knew that would get her. "Edwin likes me?" She gaped in sheer disbelief, completely plowing her cover. I nodded, feeling the smirk spread across my face. Wow. I'll be actually helping someone. Though it isn't for altruistic reasons. I really just want Lizzie and Edwin out so I can be alone with my girl. A yenta I am not, but the matchmaking will distract them from me and Casey acting strangely and friendly-like. Aside from that, it'll stop me from having to watch them mope all about and kill my happiness. Lizzie shook her head, still unable to believe. "Yeah right," She scoffed, pausing, "How do you know?"

I rolled my eyes at her. How else do you think I know? "Straight from the horse's mouth. Ed told me himself. He wanted to tell you, but I think he's biding his time," I stated breezily. Lizzie shot me a stern look. Probably wanted Ed to tell her himself. Whatever. He was going to tell her anyways. My brother's just a coward, and hey, if this gets him the girl... I'm not going to apologize for it. I just shrugged. "What? It's not like you didn't want to hear it. So suck it up, go tell Edwin, and get out of my hair," I snapped, not really in a mean way, rather a stern way. I noticed Edwin walking down the hallway, passing by Casey's door, and I suddenly shoved Lizzie into Edwin. Then I briskly walked up to them and pushed them down the stairs.

Not literally of course. Edwin got the message, though. I can always count on him. I shot him a look and he hastened them down the stairs. I turned around immediately after hearing the door slam, running into Casey's room. Don't want to make her wait, after all. Casey was dressed but barely (not that I minded). I found her choice of wardrobe very appealing. She had been pouting, but her eyes lit up when she saw me. "Where were you?" She hissed, practically pouncing on me.

I smiled widely, leaning in closer to her. "Casey, there's no place in the world I'd rather be," I murmured softly before leaning in to kiss her. I meant it, too, and I rarely ever mean things like that. I guess it was the right answer because she kissed me back with more force than I was expecting. A few moments later, I was stumbling to the bed.

You know, I could really get used to this.

Loren ;

Reviews are appreciated! But, remember, I can see when you add me/the story to your alerts and favorites if you haven't ever reviewed. Just saying. ;)


	20. Dirty Sunshine

Okay, so, for starters I apologize for this taking so damn long. I'm sorry. Life has been really hectic, and inspiration... not so much. With college applications and everything, I've been pretty sapped and stressed lately, and I have zero willpower to even do my homework. And sleep. I like sleep lately. But here it is, finally, after I set my mind out to finish tonight. Phew. Plus this story kinda does the opposite of de-stress me.

And I wanted to post this two days ago, but unfortunately circumstances beyond my control intervened, such as me getting the worst cold ever. And I had a fever yesterday of 101.8, so I was pretty much forced into bed at ten-eleven-ish.

But, okay, it's not just that. It's other things, like this Edwin/Lizzie fic I've been secretly working on which is far more entertaining to me than this... (If you're interested, I'll show you a clip) Although who knows, that might change next chapter... Anyways, in addition, the first half of this chapter is fluffy and at times a bit dull. I apologize, but it says a lot about Casey's frame of mind and such. And Derek's happy, which is so surreal.

Normally I'd write a longer A/N 'cause I feel I'm missing things. Kudos to anyone who catches the Strange Days references. Um, review if you want, I guess... You can also check out "At Last" if you feel like it. I like At Last quite a bit, but not as much as that Lizzie/Edwin fic I'm writing. Seriously, people, we need more of those because when I'm looking for pure Lizzie/Edwin fics for inspiration, I can't find very many, much less any that are updated. They're usually one-shots or Edwin/Lizzie is relegated to a minor subplot, and there's even less of that nowadays. So write them, people. Write one and get a spoiler, hell, write one I like and get two! I seriously actually think I like them more than Derek/Casey now because D/C's kinda played out and I haven't seen any new eps in a while. Plus I can't completely like Casey like I loooove Derek. And I like both Edwin and Lizzie equally.

Anyways, here it is... finally, hope you enjoy. Comment if you feel like it.

* * *

"Well, she didn't get you, but she got the next best thing!"

* * *

Hi, I'm Casey McDonald... and I'm Derek Venturi's girlfriend. Wow. It's a little hard to believe.

Bonjour (pour tous les Quebeçois), je suis Casey McDo, et je sors avec le captaine de l'équipe d'hockey, Numéro 44. Et si tu pense qu'il est chaud dans la glace...

Hey, I'm Casey McDonald, and I'm dating the most popular and most wanted guy in school. Aren't you jealous?

I'm Casey, and... I'm dating my stepbrother.

Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. Like I should be a guest on Jerry Springer. Honestly, though, I really like the sound of it. The first three, anyways. I like being Derek's girlfriend. Isn't that strange? I never thought I'd like it either, but it's been really nice. I've only been his girlfriend for a little less than a week, but Derek has been a surprisingly excellent boyfriend, especially given the circumstances, like the fact that we can't go out in public or tell Mom and Dad- I mean... George... his dad. I never would've expected it from him, but I'm really glad I gave him a chance.

It was worth it... for a lot of reasons.

Derek makes me happy, for one. Sam never made me feel like this. I loved Sam, and I still do... A girl never forgets her first love... But Sam didn't treat me right. He never made me happy. He always came first in our relationship, and I was just along for the ride. He never loved me, not even a little. Derek was right about him, completely right. Sam never paid for me, never even thought about it. He was always late. And he never even showed up to my birthday or gave me a present, not even on our anniversary.

Derek is a gentleman. He'd take me out if he could. He took me out and paid even when we weren't dating. Last Saturday he drove us all the way to Toronto, just so we could hang out in public. Over four hours to and back... all for me. He even went to see Uncle Donny with me. Uncle Donny loves him, by the way, but he's loved him ever since they first met. He completely approves, and he's so picky when it comes to boys! Derek is so... different... than what I'm used to. I never thought it would be like this, being with him. So... perfect.

He's so different from Sam and Max. In a good way. He gave me a diamond necklace for my birthday, and two Christmas presents. Derek's so generous. It's an unexpected virtue, but he likes to share when he has things. And I think about all the stuff he's done for me, even when I was completely horrible to him, and it blows my mind now. I never really appreciated it like I should've. He threw me an awesome sixteenth birthday party, even if Sam didn't show up, and how many guys give a girl their dead mother's diamond necklace and stand up to their father so you can have it? Especially when you're not even dating... not even remotely close. Not many, just Derek.

He made me breakfast in bed the other day (the morning after I became his girlfriend), just like he did on my birthday. He winked and said it was the least he could do after keeping me up all night. I didn't mind that, especially since it was so... but it was the best meal I ever had. Even better because Derek was there with me. We shared it, feeding each other and all. Isn't that sickeningly adorable?

I think he's being so sweet lately that he's going to give me a cavity.

He loves me so much; I can't comprehend it. Why would he love me, of all the girls ever known? Me? I feel so undeserving. I've never treated him that well, and I've always thought the worst of him. Yet he loves me, despite all that, despite the fact that I'm still in love with Sam, and I don't feel the same. I want to feel the same. It'd be so much easier if my feelings went one extreme or the other. If I completely hated him or loved him or... But they don't. They're stuck hopelessly in the middle, all mixed and twisted and muddled up.

It's still all so new to me, this whole having-a-relationship-with-Derek-thing. A decent, romantic one. I still can't believe that we can actually have actual conversations, minus all the yelling. It's so hard to pretend to fight with him when I feel like doing anything but. You know, so the parentals and, more importantly, the younger sibs, don't get suspicious. I don't want to set a bad example for them. I feel like such a hypocrite for criticizing Lizzie when I'm doing worse. But it's different for me and Derek. We never even pretended to think of each other as siblings. He won't ever be a brother to me. Nothing could make him my brother.

It's kind of great, actually. The first few weeks of any relationship are, but Derek makes me feel different.

It's Derek's birthday today. He's been looking forward to this for a long time. Derek's crazy about birthdays. He's officially seventeen. One year closer to being able to vote, drink, and enlist. I thought he'd want to throw a huge party, since there's nothing he loves more than a killer party. George and Mom are gone for the weekend, as if to help Derek in throwing a party. It's kind of a secret all-clear. Marti's over at Dimi's for the weekend, and, since we had a freak blizzard, Lizzie and Edwin are over at one of their friend's houses for at least the night. Maybe (hopefully) longer. It has snowed an awful lot today, even for Canada.

It seems like Derek should be throwing a party now, even despite the blizzard, but he's shown no interest in any of my attempts to throw him a huge birthday bash. He said next week would be better, and that he'd rather spend the whole weekend alone with me. I can't even go out of the house to get him anything; Derek won't let me leave! He said that I'm the only present he needs. I guess that's true. What do you get for the man who has everything? According to Derek, in giving him myself, I gave him the best gift he's ever received. Sweet and cheesy, just like a cannoli. I almost miss the old Derek... but not quite.

There's something about discovering what a stranger Derek really is to me that's so utterly appealing. I've had simple, now I want complex. There are so many more layers to Derek than I ever gave him credit for. I actually like learning about him. It's a nice chance to take advantage of the intimacy so I can finally know what he's thinking.

You know how long that's consumed me, wondering what goes on in Derek's head?

Far longer than I'm willing to admit.

Honestly, though, I'm kind of creeped out that I gave myself to Derek, but he's completely right. I was what he wanted most, and now he has me. Derek's into the chase, so I think he'll eventually turn around. Normally Derek loses interest fast, but he hasn't lost interest in me yet. I don't know why... maybe it's the forbidden angle, or that we have to sneak around, or the love.

Probably the love. It's still a novelty to him, which is kind of adorable.

Anyway, I'm trying to think of something special I can do for him, since he's done so much for me... other than the all-too obvious. That's why I'm making him lunch. Derek, bless him, is still sleeping. He's completely beat. He had a huge hockey game yesterday. The team won, but he got back home by 4 in the morning. It was an away game, and the party was very long. Then Mom and George dragged him up at seven to see them off, and he stayed up until nine, helping me help the kids get ready to go to their friends' houses. He went right back to bed after that, and I stayed up, doing menial household chores.

I don't mind, though. It helps to clear my mind, distract me. I like cleaning. It's simple. It helps to calm all these thoughts and feelings I've got swirling around in my head. I tried to think of things to do for his birthday, but I came up with nothing... except cooking. So I'm making him his favorite meal and a giant birthday cake. I also like baking, which is so ridiculously domestic of me, like I'd actually like being a housewife or whatever. It's Derek's birthday, but I'm not going to Donna Reed it. I'm not going to bring him his pipe, his paper, and his pantouffles. Especially since I don't approve of his smoking habit. When I kiss him after he's smoked, it's like licking an ashtray... only an ashtray can't do those sorts of things with its mouth.

Derek's birthday cake is a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. It's a triple-layer Black Forest cake with German chocolate filling. Cherries, creamy frosting, and flakes of chocolate decorate the top. It's delicious, or at least it will be. But I suppose Derek won't think it's the real dessert. He's absolutely insatiable, but he wouldn't be Derek if he wasn't. And then I wouldn't know what to do with him at all. Not that I especially do now. Life with Derek has always been unpredictable... multiply that by a thousand and you get how unpredictable it is to date him.

And I never thought I'd say this, but sometimes a little chaos is a good thing.

I think I'm finally beginning to appreciate disorder... if only a little bit. After all, as Edwin pointed out, the second law of thermodynamics says that everything tends towards entropy anyways.

Hence Derek's appeal: he is chaos personified.

After all, who am I to defy the laws of nature?

Dating Derek's exciting, to say the least. Honestly, after one boring, predictable relationship after another, that's exactly what I need. It was always commitment and then that nervous fluttery feeling but never any real passion. Derek is full of passion. Derek's fun, and I already know how he feels, so I don't have to worry all the time or over-analyze everything he says. It's such a relief, really, because Derek knows who I am. So I know he isn't just going to up and leave, and for once I feel like I'm in power. He just has this way of calming me down that has to be unnatural. And, even stranger, Derek and I almost never fight. I never expected this, really. You never know what you're gonna get or what he'll do next, and sometimes he just pulls this completely romantic thing out of nowhere.

While thinking this, I pulled the steaming chicken out of the oven, carefully setting it on our two plates. I put some rice down next to it along with some potatoes au gratin. Then I poured sauce on the chicken. I set the two plates on the meticulously set table, then brought in the salads, bread, salad dressing, and butter. I filled both glasses with ice and water. Okay, so chicken sautée with salad isn't exactly Derek's favorite meal. He likes pizza and raw meat, steak, hamburgers, that sort of thing. I wanted a nice meal, though. Besides, he's having steak for dinner. I had carefully hidden Derek's birthday cake in the freezer and was in the middle of making the dessert (strawberries dipped in chocolate with a side of whipped cream and powdered sugar), when I felt hands on my hips.

My heart immediately leapt into my throat. Derek wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning into me. I was suddenly very glad I'd hidden the cake. "Hey, babe. What's cooking?" He mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. It sounded like he had just woken up. I smiled and finished arranging the food on the tray. "I smelled food, so I thought I'd come down. Were you making something for me?" Derek asked in a lilting tone, amusement evident in his voice. I turned around and nodded briefly, walking past him and into the dining room. I set the tray in the middle of the table and turned around to see the look on his face, undoing my apron and throwing it on the floor.

His eyes were wide with shock. He licked his lips, clearly hungry. I didn't know whether his hunger was for me or the food, but Derek's smile said it all. He sat down and practically fell upon the food. I was a bit disappointed at his brutish behavior and the fact that his hunger was solely directed towards the food. A few moments later, however, I seated myself and dug into the food. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Before I knew it, all the food on my plate was gone, and I had to look up at Derek. Surprisingly, I met his eyes straightaway. He was smiling. "Mm... That was delicious. Are there seconds?" Derek exclaimed contentedly. I shook my head.

His face fell a little, but I motioned to the strawberries, grinning. "There's dessert, of course." Derek smirked, shooting me a very, very suggestive look. He motioned me over to him. I grinned back and picked up the platter of strawberries, plucking one off the platter to feed Derek. He ate it absolutely shamelessly, so suggestively that it made me flush all the way down to my bones. I remembered all the wonderful things he could do with those lips and that tongue. My throat went a little dry.

He tasted like strawberries and chocolate when I kissed him, which was about two seconds after he finished the second strawberry. Sue me, but I couldn't take it anymore. It was just as well, I suppose. Derek is not renowned for his self-control, so it was really less of a victory for him. Oh, I forgot to say we have little games like that, teasing one another to see who caves first. I usually win, since I held out longer than Derek for seventeen years. I've had quite a bit of practice with it, but something about him is just irresistible to me right now.

Let's just say I finally understand what all those girls have been raving about in the locker room. After that, I kind of let the tray fall back on the table and wound up on Derek's lap. His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His fingers brushed across the flesh above my skirt. The skin tingled where he touched me. And it felt good. He played with the zipper of my skirt, beginning to undo it when... the damn phone rang and ruined everything. Both of us tried to ignore it, but eventually the ringing was so annoying that I had to extricate myself from Derek and walk into the living room.

To say that I was flustered would be an understatement. My clothes were slightly rumpled, my hair mussed. And it was Max on the phone. Why did I insist on keeping the phone plugged in? Derek had practically ripped the cord out of the wall once everyone left. Said he wanted us to have a little privacy.

Oh, right. I said that we should keep it plugged in just in case Mom or George called about something and for emergencies. Why am I so stupid?! I should've at least screened my calls. Instead, I was forced to be cordial to my evil ex-boyfriend. "Hello, Max. To what do I owe this phone call?" I replied as civilly as I could. In reality, I kind of wanted to bite his head off. He wasn't a great boyfriend by any strides. He was half a boyfriend, and Derek told me how he always laughed at me when his friends made fun of me. I can't believe I never saw that. But now, after hearing how he sent his goons to harass me; well, that's the final straw.

I refuse to pretend to get along with him. You know, he told everyone he dumped me, even though half the class and Derek saw _me _break up with him. He always was so obnoxious and horribly vain. Therefore, I was not happy to hear from him, especially now, when I have so many better things to be doing. I don't even want to tell him off, really. I'd just prefer never to hear from him ever again, really. "Since when does Derek fight your battles for you?" He countered gruffly. I bristled at the statement.

"Derek does not fight my battles for me. He was only looking out for me. I can't believe you don't even have the nerve to harass me yourself! You have to send some dumb jock to do it for you! And why now, why after Sam's dumped me? We're not together anymore, Max. Get over it. I have!" I retorted sharply, perhaps a bit too sharply. I glanced up, noticing that Derek stood waiting in the doorway. I tried to smile, but it was strained at best. Unable to look at him, since I felt guilty that I was even talking to my ex-boyfriend on Derek's birthday.

Max scoffed over the phone, obviously remembering the Casey who had scared Ryan off. I just remembered how he had stood there and done nothing. With a word, he could have easily stopped a fight, but he didn't. He just laughed and thought "how amusing". He was just going to let Derek get his ass kicked. Sam was at least better than that, minus his preference for cheap whores. Max, although a player, tended to prefer dipping from his vast pool of ex-girlfriends. Hence why I dumped him: Amy. That bitch.

Derek walked over to me slowly. "Oh, I'm over it, Casey. I'm sorry to hear about you and Sam," Max stated coolly. He is such a foul liar, isn't he? Everyone knew about it because Emily can't keep a secret. I was polite enough not to mention who I caught him cheating on me with. I rolled my eyes. If he was really okay with it, he wouldn't bother calling me for no reason. "However, I was thinking about it... And I feel like it's time for a reconciliation." There was a distinctly lascivious tone in his voice, and I knew what that meant.

It disgusted me. I was with Derek anyway, but no one knew that. Even if I wasn't, I still wouldn't be desperate enough to take Max up on his sleazy offer. "Thanks, but no thanks," I said briskly. My eyes flicked over to Derek, and I noticed he was grinning. He started to walk towards me. My eyes followed him all the way to the couch. He plopped down right next to me, casually throwing an arm around me. He sighed, rolling his eyes. I nodded whole-heartedly.

I could tell that Max was angry with me. I wasn't alone anymore, though. I didn't have to put up with his harassment now that I had Derek behind me. "I don't think you've considered it enough. I could offer you a lot of comfort, Casey... especially in your time of need. Think it over before you reject it. It doesn't even have to be anything serious," Max suggested semi-flirtatiously. I rolled my eyes again, pulling a face. Sleaze. Man, even Derek had more class when he was pursuing me.

I needed to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Derek leaned his head against my shoulder, toying with the ends of my hair. His lips brushed against my neck. "I don't need to consider it, Max. I'm with someone else. Someone a lot better than you," I said automatically. Derek seemed to perk up at this. He draped his other arm around my waist protectively, turning his head to kiss my neck passionately. I sighed dreamily, a bit too dreamily for a conversation on the phone with my ex. I could practically hear the smarmy smirk forming on his slutty face. "I'm not going to have sex with you, Max. Get that through your thick head. I didn't have sex with you when we were dating, and I'm certainly not going to do it now. That's why you cheated on me. Because I wouldn't give it up to you," I snapped plainly. It would do him best to remember that.

I hung up right after that, because Derek's lips had meandered down to my collarbone by then, and I was about to let out an unladylike moan that would definitely give Max the wrong idea. Then I dropped the phone with a clatter, tilting my head to pull Derek closer. I fell back on the couch suddenly and hit the remote accidentally. The TV turned on, and I pushed Derek away, feeling embarrassed. I shifted, picking up the remote, turning to see what was on.

It was a really old commercial for beer. The Joe Canada one. Derek suddenly turned to stare at it in silence, a frown forming on his face. "Hey, he looks like my science teacher!" He exclaimed strangely. I blinked, looking at the all-too familiar face. Science teacher? I scoffed, smacking Derek lightly on the arm.

"Please. Like science teachers are that attractive," I retorted amusedly. If that was true, I would be a lot more interested in science. Besides, we have the same science teacher. A woman science teacher. Derek shot me a look, but laughter was in his eyes.

We settled down to watch some TV show. It was more along the informative type, and I know Derek loathes documentaries. Unless they're interesting. Otherwise, though, he hates them. I moved to change the channel; it was some science show. Derek knocked the remote out of my hand. "I want to watch that," He declared, surprising me. I blinked, glancing at the television. The program was on tesseracts. I turned back to look at Derek, who was indeed watching. I blinked again, but he was still watching when I opened my eyes.

That's the thing about Derek. He continually surprises me. I stared at him in disbelief. Derek was watching the show with rapt attention. He answered my unspoken question without even turning his head. "Yes, Casey, I know what a tesseract is. It's a four-dimensional cube, so they're generally associated with the fourth dimension- a.k.a. time travel," He replied matter-of-factly. Now I was just impressed. The guy on the TV hadn't even defined it yet. I stared at Derek in awe. "Why is that so surprising?" He asked a moment later, sounding almost exasperated. He seemed kind of annoyed or angry, so I forced myself to watch the program and stop staring at him.

I like science and all, don't get me wrong, but Derek was a whole lot more fascinating. Admittedly, I knew the answer to his question, but I was too ashamed to say it. Because I never thought you had a brain, much less one that actually gave a crap about abstract scientific theories. I felt guilty just for thinking it, but Derek had never shown an interest in it, so how was I supposed to know? Besides, _I_ knew next to nothing about them. I smiled, trying to watch the show. "Next thing I know you'll be telling me about wormholes and string theory and alternate realities and the butterfly effect," I quipped brightly.

Derek turned to look at me, traces of a smile beginning to appear on his face. "Well, for all we know, there could be some alternate world out there where I'm a total geek and you're starring in movies with Lindsay Lohan," He retorted mischievously. I laughed really loud. Derek a geek? Me, in movies with Lindsay Lohan? Oh, yes, definitely an alternative universe. Besides, didn't I deserve a starring role more than that ex-Disney drug addict? Just saying... Where does Derek get these ideas, I wonder.

I laughed, putting my hand on his thigh accidentally. "Yeah, that'll be the day!" I exclaimed. I turned, noticing that Derek was staring at me. He gently brought my hand to his lips. He kissed my fingers slowly, one after the other. I closed my eyes and felt him kiss his way up my arm. His lips were so warm. I tilted my neck so there would be more space for him to kiss, sighing dreamily and waiting for him to reach my lips. Unfortunately, just before that happened, Derek pulled away.

I opened my eyes, feeling vaguely annoyed. Then I noticed that the TV was back on. I couldn't be mad at him, but I also couldn't help but roll my eyes. It just figures. Typical guy. I sank into the couch, burying my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Der, I'm hurt. Since when do you find science more interesting than your girlfriend?" I murmured jestingly. Derek immediately turned to face me. I pouted. I was going to kiss his neck.

He looked a little sheepish, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Okay," He admitted, "so maybe I like science." Derek looked down as if embarrassed. I personally thought it was cute, not embarrassing. And, honestly, it was kind of cool to find out that there was more to Derek than the player I knew. Then he looked up at me like a little boy. "But haven't you ever wondered about the paranormal?" He said.

Not really, but the idea that Derek did interested me. I fought the urge to grin insanely, plastering a serious look on my face. "Since when are you a conspiracy theorist?" I quipped, trying to hide my amusement. What was funny was how Derek got all defensive. I wanted to burst out into loud laughter, but I refrained wisely. I tousled his hair affectionately.

He actually blushed. "Jeez, I'm not Edwin, you know..." Derek retorted a bit sharply. I turned my head so he didn't see me grin. "It's just... When I was little, I wanted to win a Nobel Prize," He replied reluctantly. I thought that was just about the most a-fricking-dorable thing I'd ever heard. Who knew Derek had dreams? That was so cute that I just had to kiss him. I jerked his head towards me, slamming his lips against mine. Derek fumbled with the remote, muting the TV. He pulled me onto his lap, and I kind of lost track of time from that point forward.

By the time Derek and I were done (which was much, much, much later), it was five-thirty. The both of us were ravenously hungry. I was going to cook that steak for Derek, and make some mashed potatoes and stuff, but I needed him to do something so he wasn't there watching me. I knew if he was, I'd act like a klutz and completely screw everything up like I did that one time Uncle Dennis came to dinner. So I turned to Derek, trying to think of something for him to do. Then I noticed the dreamy way Derek was staring at me. He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Penny for your thoughts?" I whispered, running my hand through his hair.

The grin stayed on his face. "How 'bout a kiss instead?" He suggested flirtatiously, waggling his eyebrows. I nodded anxiously, waiting for him to tell me. "I was just thinking that this is the best birthday I've ever had, and I owe it all to you," He murmured, pressing his lips against my temple. I smiled back. He's so sweet sometimes, when we're all alone, and he can just be himself. "And how much I love you," He continued, sounding awed by it. I kissed his neck softly.

"Mmm, Derek. How 'bout you go shower while I make dinner?" I hinted, pushing him off the couch in the direction of the stairs. Derek pouted, but I motioned for him to go up the stairs nonetheless. I bent down, slowly retrieving my clothing. Obviously I'm not going to cook naked. That's just inviting trouble... and Derek, of course. Derek watched me with a satisfied grin on his face. "Now go on, Der... You get cleaned up!" I got dressed quickly, pulling my clothes on before going into the kitchen. "And think about what else I can do to make this birthday even better for you!"

I swiped my finger across the top of the cake, licking it. Mmm, it tasted sweet. I read the recipe and started to prepare the steak. I'd reached a point where it didn't need constant watching when the phone rang. I went to answer it, frowning and wishing I'd joined Derek for his shower. I felt disgusting, and the water would be so nice. That'd be breaking my one rule, though. No sex in the bathroom. I walked over to answer the phone, picking it up. Unfortunately, it was Max, again.

"Casey, we didn't finish our conversation!" I groaned loudly, walking back over to the stove to watch Derek's steak. I suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore. "Now, I don't believe you. It was good between us, wasn't it? I could show you a good time, Case... Better than you've ever known," Max wheedled. I rolled my eyes. Max, better than Derek? Please. I should've just dumped Max for Noel when I had the chance. Why do I always choose crappy boyfriends? I mean, seriously, I think Derek's the best guy I've ever dated. Which is sad.

I just have this awful habit of picking a guy and thinking he's my world, and then he turns out to be completely two-faced and psycho. At least I know what to expect with Derek. I've already seen all his ugly sides, and even so, he's still the best of them. Not to mention a far better kisser. "Max, cram it. It was never that good, so don't flatter yourself. Dating you was a mistake, as is you calling me," I retorted sharply. I needed to do something with my hands, so I started dicing vegetables for the salad. I amused myself by pretending they were Max' head. "Now, really, I'd like it if you hung up."

He didn't, of course. I scowled at him, feeling rather annoyed. "Casey, baby, come on..." Finally, I'd had enough. I threw the knife down, sweeping all the vegetables into the salad bowl.

"No, Max! I will not! Just because I'm vulnerable from breaking up with Sam doesn't mean you have an open invitation between my legs! You've got your easy slut of a girlfriend for that," I shouted, absolutely furious. It sounded like I was jealous when I was really just extremely pissed off. So I took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. "Now, as I told you before, I'm with someone else, who, I assure you, is a thousand times better than you in every way. And he loves me, so you can just kiss off. Bye Max," I replied rather tersely, slamming the phone down. Plus I don't want to get back with Max ever again.

Then, just to be certain he didn't call me again, I finally unplugged the phone. Screw Mom and George. If there's an emergency, they can reach us on our cell phones. I sighed dreamily. The thought of absolute privacy with Derek seemed just what the doctor ordered. I waited for the steak to finish cooking, made some mashed potatoes, and reset the table. I lit the candles and put the salad, salad dressing, and other dishes on the table while the steak simmered. Admittedly, I'm no pro at cutting a steak, but I think I managed rather admirably. The cake, however, remained in the fridge. The birthday candles and lighter I'd borrowed were on the counter.

Having finished all that, I called Derek downstairs. He was dressed surprisingly nicely. He looked almost good enough to eat, but enough of that... Derek sat down and immediately began to eat. I grimaced a little. He still eats like a starving barbarian. That is not to say that Derek isn't a starving barbarian because, of course, he is. But I am not so much as kissing him until he flosses. I refuse to kiss someone with meat in his teeth. Even if I was in love with said person, and I am certainly not in love with Derek.

I ate much more slowly and carefully, as opposed to my boyfriend, who pretty much stuck his knife in it and started munching. I wanted to point out how obviously dangerous that was, but I refrained. It was a good meal, I suppose. Derek confirmed my belief loudly with a comment and a loud belch. He was at least civilized enough to look sheepish and apologize for the burp. How kind of him.

Well, one can't expect perfection overnight. Besides, despite his lack of polish and manners, Derek is far more of a gentleman than anyone I've ever dated. And he makes up for it in... other ways. Finally, we'd both finished (Derek finished thirds), and I pushed my plate further back on the table. Derek leaned back, satisfied, staring at me dreamily. He looked a bit sleepy, so it surprised me when he decided to start a conversation. There was a faint smile on his lips. "So, I heard what you said on the phone about me to Max," Derek commented with a full-on grin.

I felt myself flush. I hadn't intended for him to hear that. Why would I say something so nice about him if I knew he was listening? Great. Now Derek was smirking. "Did you mean it?" He asked in a curious lilting voice. I nodded somewhat shyly. Derek was actually smiling now. He leaned across the table to grab my hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.

"Derek, I-" I started to say, needing to somehow explain or qualify the statement. Derek didn't seem to care much, though. He stood up abruptly, bending across the table to kiss me. I let him, but then I pulled back sternly. "Not until you floss." Derek made a face, but I stared at him until he relented. He relented much quicker than he usually did, probably because I had what he wanted. To tide Derek over, I reached across the table, grabbing him by his collar. I flashed him a convincingly seductive grin. "Besides, Derek, I'm going to go change into something a little more... comfortable," I hinted suggestively, pressing a kiss lightly to his lips before releasing him and heading upstairs.

Needless to say, Derek got the message and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. I think he was done flossing in maybe under a minute. I, on the other hand, had some serious contemplation to do... What to wear, what to wear? Should I wear that lingerie or the shorts or the robe? I was deliberating over clothes for some fifteen minutes until Derek knocked on my door. "C'mon Casey! It can't take you that long just to get dressed! You're cruel, but even you aren't this cruel!" Derek whined through my (locked) door. He tried the door, and, finding it locked, he shouted through the door. "Since when do you lock your door?" He cried.

I grinned. "Well, Derek, I'm changing... Wouldn't want to have you come barging in," I replied back, feeling somewhat amused. Derek groaned in frustration and probably was about to say something about the fact that he'd been in there many times before, so I broke in. "Besides, Dere-Bear, it'd ruin the effect. Now go clear off the table. I intend for you and I to put it _and _the counter to good use," I exclaimed flirtatiously. Needless to say, Derek backed away from the door, practically leaped downstairs, and rushed to the table.

A few moments later, I got an idea. I unlocked and opened the door, peering into the hallway to see if Derek was anywhere around. He wasn't, so I smirked and snuck into his bedroom. I grabbed his hockey jersey, which I'd fortunately just washed. I put it on over the lingerie he'd bought me for Christmas before spraying myself with that perfume he liked. Then I swept some cherry Chapstick across my lips (I didn't want something really sticky or messy that could get smeared easily, and, besides, we both liked cherries) and ran a hand through my hair. I smiled into the mirror, feeling self-conscious. Then I reminded myself that Derek is in love with me and that this is any sane, straight hockey player's fantasy.

Needless to say, I was effectively reassured, but I could've done without the annoying reminder of Sam. It gave me an unwanted pang to think of it. I headed down the stairs no less than a moment later. I peeked in the direction of the kitchen. Apparently Derek was still cleaning up because I saw him scrubbing dishes with a fury. I bit back a giggle at the sight of something I never thought I'd see: Derek actually doing his own chores. I was headed towards the dining room when suddenly the doorbell rang. I hollered out to Derek that I'd get it and dashed towards the door. Derek growled in frustration, and for once, I agreed with him.

Seriously, what tactless loser interrupts someone's dinner time? Never mind the fact that we weren't actually eating. Well, food, anyways... It's pretty safe to say that we both had a healthy appetite. Seriously, though, doesn't this ignorant jerk who's interrupting our romantic night realize that seven o'clock is still a dinner time? Especially here in the McDonald-Venturi household. Derek and I only ate a little early because we're all alone. Now, who can possibly be interrupting us at such a time in such weather? I've half a mind to give the interloper a piece of my mind! That's it! The dumb yokel keeps knocking like it's urgent!

Now, I know that isn't Edwin or Lizzie. Our parents raised them better than that. Fine. I'm going to open this damn door and give whoever's behind it what for! So I opened the door angrily and was completely stunned to see who was behind it.

Sam was standing on our porch. SAM! My ex-boyfriend and first love, Sam! My jaw dropped and suddenly I felt horribly faint. "Sam. Hi. What are you doing here?" I said in a monotone. I was still kind of frozen in shock. I hadn't even realized that Sam had seen me in next-to-nothing. Luckily Derek's hockey jersey was very long on me. I felt a chill, so I crossed my arms over my chest. Sam looked at me kind of awkwardly, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another. He said nothing, and I found myself feeling rather annoyed. He comes here, sees me, interrupts me having sex with Derek, and has the nerve to stand there and say nothing.

For a moment, I waited for him to say something. Unfortunately, he said nothing. I was about to close the door in his face when suddenly he shot out an arm. He was holding something, and I suddenly looked down and noticed it was wrapped. It was a Christmas present. Or maybe a birthday present. Sam looked at me with pleading eyes, and I couldn't help but give in a little to his flushed cheeks and windblown hair. "Open it, Casey," Sam begged. I heard the strain in his voice and gave in, taking it from him and opening the present.

It was a beautiful necklace, nothing like what Derek had given me, of course... but still nice, nonetheless. It might've been slightly pricey, but again, nothing compared to Derek's gift. I think the only time I've ever taken it off has been to shower. Hell, Derek likes it when I wear it. The necklace Sam gave me, however, was a mixture of stones, none of them... well, maybe they were semi-precious. I smiled slightly. "Thanks, Sam." After all, it was a nice gesture, and he didn't really have to do it. I didn't put it on, of course. That would be like cheating on Derek, and I'm not going to do that with Sam, of all people!

I'd forgotten up until then just how disgusted I was with him. Immensely. I frowned, taking in his appearance. "What are you doing here, Sam? If this is something about Derek, you might as well go home right now because he's _busy_. And... if it's for me, turn around right now. There's nothing here left for you," I murmured icily, stressing the fact that Derek was busy. I just didn't say he was busy with me. Sam swallowed, but he didn't go, confusing me. He can't possibly be here for the parents or our siblings. He must be damn crazy if he thinks I'm letting a lech like him near my baby sister. Lord, I'd rather have her with Edwin!

Sam shuffled his feet, clearly nervous, for a few more moments. "It's not about Derek," He blurted suddenly. He looked at me desperately, taking my hands in a fit of passion. "This is about you, Casey," He said in a whisper. I stared at him for a long moment in surprise. Okay, so I'd kind of expected it was about me. "I realized what I did was wrong." At that I tried to draw my hands out of his grip, disgusted. No, I thought, you didn't! You're only sorry you got caught. "Casey, I'm sorry!" Sam proclaimed dramatically. I dropped his hands and walked back to the door. The cold of the night was seeping into my skin. I scowled at him. What the hell does that mean? Sorry? What a miserable excuse for an apology that is!

I shook my head in disgust. Sam immediately dropped to his knees, holding out his hands prayer-wise as if that would make any difference at all. "Is that supposed to mean something to me, Sam? Just because you go down on your knees it's supposed to mean something to me? Newsflash, Sam, but it means less to me than it did to Trashy Cassy!" I sniped, flinging the necklace back at him and turning to close the door square in his face. His stupid, lying, cheating, absofrickinglutely insincere face.

Sam's hand reached out to stop the door from closing as he stood up. I shot him a disgusted glance. "Casey, please at least let me talk!" He pleaded with a pout. "I was wrong. I was stupid. I was confused, and I didn't know what I wanted. But I do now. I love you, Casey. I've been miserable without you, and I have to have you back," He confessed sadly, a look of utter desolation crossing his face. I could only gape at him, and for a moment I forgot all thoughts I had of shutting the door in his face. He took a hesitant step towards me, holding out the necklace. "I'm really sorry, Casey."

He looked so sincere and so contrite I didn't know what to do to myself. At first, I couldn't even speak. He was so close it was distracting, but I eventually managed to regain my self-control. "How am I supposed to believe you, Sam? How can I know if you're telling the truth when I can't even trust you!" I managed in a somewhat broken voice. I was trying desperately not to cry. Sam hung his head and looked depressed, but he was silently acknowledging that I was right. He didn't seriously think I'd just forgive him, did he?

Sam nodded. "I know that. I wouldn't trust me either. But I am telling the truth," Sam swore. I frowned, but... well, at least he was being honest about that. That was something, right? He grabbed my hand. "I missed you, Casey." He shot me a look, and what I saw in his eyes was so real and so genuine that it just hit me in the stomach like a sucker punch. I couldn't help but cave a little. His eyes sparkled. "Take me back. Please. I was in a bad place before... and after you broke up with me... but I see clearly now. And I see you. Losing you made me realize what really mattered. I love you, Casey. Please..." Sam literally begged. Admittedly, it was hard to say no to that.

I managed it, though. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Sam. You thought that I'd just be here waiting for you, needing you, and that isn't it at all. How presumptuous is it of you to expect that I'm not in another relationship... or that I even **want **you back, Sam? Did you think I'd take you back immediately, that I'm that _desperate_?" I said coolly, hearing my volume go up with each word until I was practically yelling at him. I was about to say some more, but brother dearest happened to interrupt at that precise moment.

"Casey, I'm done cleaning the table! Get your ass in here now!" Derek demanded imperiously. He said it in sort of a bark, and I felt myself flush self-consciously at the mandate. I'm kind of glad he interrupted, actually, because I probably would've said something very stupid instead, plus it managed to distract me from Sam. Funny, isn't it? I'd almost forgotten about Derek, and, trust me, that is a very hard thing to do. Even when I wasn't dating him, I never quite could get him entirely out of my mind. Maybe that means something.

I turned around to shout back a reply, and I wound up wishing that Derek wasn't so loud. I briefly wondered if Sam suspected anything, but I quickly shook the thought out of mind. "In a minute!" I screeched, wishing he wasn't so impatient. I whirled back around to face Sam, smiling awkwardly, leaning on the door frame. I was still clutching his necklace, I realized suddenly. I stared at him for a minute, with all those annoying feelings coming back at me. Of course I still loved Sam, but I couldn't trust him, and he repulsed me. I couldn't imagine myself with him again, and I realized that I didn't really want to be with him.

Once again, Derek ruined the moment. "You know I'm not a patient man!" Oh, yes, yes I do. I felt my flush deepen, and I was suddenly terrified that Sam knew everything. I didn't want him to know, not really. Not yet, at least. He'll call me a slut and then... But revenge was kind of what I wanted, I guess, only it's better that he doesn't know. Still, ir doesn't exactly take Einstein to figure this out, with Derek yelling at me to get in there all impatient and me in his hockey jersey and pretty much nothing else. Sam had to have noticed that! He must've, I think, because his eyes darkened somewhat. I crossed my arms over my chest and took a defensive position, trying to soothe my doubts and worries.

"You can say anything, Sam, anything, but it doesn't mean that things have really changed between us. How can I know that you're not cheating? How do I know that you'll treat me right? I don't, and so I can't get back with you," I finished honestly. It wasn't what Sam wanted to hear, but it was what I needed to say. I sighed, feeling suddenly weary. All I wanted to do was get back to Derek. I didn't need Sam or his games. I didn't want to think about him anymore. "Goodbye and goodnight, Sam. I suggest you go home soon. Wouldn't want you to freeze. Night," I muttered, swiftly moving to shut the door.

He spoke quickly, before I'd had time to properly close the door. "Goodnight. Think it over, Casey. Remember that I love you," Sam managed, staring at me until the door closed. Damn it if my heart didn't flutter at those words. But I didn't want to think it over. Not now. Now I wanted something mindless.

Sex with Derek is mindless. And fun.

I was so exhausted that I didn't notice what I was saying until it was too late. "Love you too Sam. Night." Then I shut and locked the door. A full minute later, as I watched Sam walk away with a silly grin on his face, I realized what I'd let slip. "Damn it!" I cried out frustratedly, flinging my hands against the door in exasperation. I can't believe I just did that. I banged my head against the door, cursing my own idiocy. Why didn't I just cut him off like a sane person? Why didn't I just close it right after that first sentence? Why did I linger like I still liked him and cared what he said?

I sighed, taking a deep breath. Okay. Maybe if I don't think about it, I can pretend it never happened. Ha. Yeah right. Okay, so that doesn't work... Derek... Um. Well... just because I had that nasty little Freudian slip, it doesn't mean I'm getting back with him. I'm not even thinking about it. That would be insane, and I'm clearly not insane... Then again, I am dating Derek, so what's that say for my sanity?

It says that I have a weakness for charming, sexy brown-haired guitarists who know what they're doing. A.K.A. Derek.

Frowning, I snapped out of it, carelessly plopped the necklace on the credenza, and started walking through the living room. I was still thinking about Sam, seriously thinking about him, and I didn't want to. I felt guilty, bad, dirty even... After all, I was going in the kitchen to let Derek have his way with me, and thinking of Sam? Or, worse, hooking up with Derek to avoid thinking of Sam? I was the opposite of turned on, and I'd been looking forward to this too!

Damn you, Sam.

Feeling more guilty by the second, I decided to make it up to Derek. So I walked a little more slowly, reaching up into the back of the shirt. I found and unfastened my bra, letting it fall to the floor. A pity, but a rather necessary one with all these awful thoughts I'm consid- thinking. Yes, thinking. Just... Oy. Must stop thinking about Sam. He wasn't that convincing.

Lie. He wasn't that cute. Lie. He wasn't that sincere. Lie. You don't want to get back with him...

I haven't heard voices arguing in my head for a while. Clearly this is bad. Derek. Only Derek. There's no room for Sam because Derek's a very demanding person. Yeah.

Exhaling raggedly, annoyed that my thoughts kept straying to Sam, I sighed and pulled down the panties. I slipped them off my legs and dropped them on the floor, feeling plenty guilty. I was determined to make it up to Derek, even though he would never know. It was wrong to think about his best friend when I'm with him. I'm not supposed to have these stupid, pointless lingering feelings for Sam. I'm supposed to be into Derek. Only Derek.

Derek.

So I sashayed into the dining room, smiling coyly at an impatient Derek. He looked over me with admiration, looking completely thrilled that I was wearing his jersey. His frown eased into a smile, and he walked over to me, taking me by the hand. "That looks scarily better on you than it does on me," He whispered, lips brushing against my ear. I smiled and tried to push those niggling thoughts of Sam out of my mind. Derek pulled me close and trailed his hands down my side, discovering that all I was wearing was his necklace, his hockey jersey, and a smile. Derek was a happy birthday boy indeed.

He wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips against mine softly at first. He pulled back quickly and did it again. And again. And again. The whole time I was thinking of Sam, and that just wouldn't do, so I wrapped my arms around Derek's neck and kissed him bruisingly, hoping it would make me forget. It didn't, though, not quite. Sam still lingered on the corners of my mind... Sam, lonely, missing me, wanting me, loving me. But Derek was here now, and he'd been there for me then, and I knew he loved me without a doubt... and didn't that matter something?

Derek responded in kind. His grip was rough, almost hard, and suddenly he surprised me by picking me up. A breathless feeling like butterflies bubbled up inside of me, making me gasp involuntarily. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist. He didn't even stop kissing me for air, backing up until I was sitting on the dining room table. He'd pushed the chair back savagely earlier. The table was hard and cold, and I felt a little uncomfortable, but Derek was pressing a stream of tantalizing kisses down my neck, applying just enough force to make me almost lose my mind. I buried my fingers in his messy hair, tugging on the ends as I tilted my neck to give him better passage.

I slowly lowered my back to the cool table until I was laying on my back and had pulled Derek so he was practically standing over me. We were attached at the mouth and pretty close everywhere else. Between breathless kisses, I managed a few words. "Derek, you're overdressed," I mumbled, gasping for air. My fingers tore at his shirt needily, ripping it off of him before sliding down to the zipper which I quickly pulled down. I easily pushed his pants down to his ankles, pulling him closer still to me. He didn't mind one iota.

He hiked up the hockey jersey up to my stomach, and, for a moment he pulled back and just stared at me breathlessly. It was almost like the sight of me had taken his breath away, but that wasn't it at all. Sam never looked at me like that. I felt suddenly embarrassed, though, self-conscious even though Derek had seen me naked many times. I'd already slept with him, but I felt like a schoolgirl whose skirt had blown up in the wind. I shook my head to rid myself of these thoughts and tugged Derek's boxers down, needing nothing more than oblivion.

I achieved it some minutes later in a brilliant flash of heat and contact and bliss.

Some people seek their oblivion in alcohol or drugs or sleep... I seek mine in earthy lovemaking with my stepbrother.

Wow, I have seriously got to stop reading romance novels.

I worked harder at it this time because I was so guilty. Then after recovering for a few moments of catching our breath, I completely removed Derek's clothes and dragged him into the kitchen. I wanted to be bruised this time. I wanted to be marked up. I dug my nails into his back, and I bit his ear and sucked on his neck. And I grabbed at whatever I could reach, and his skin was so warm and slick, and it felt so good... So I asked Derek to do it harder and faster this time, and he had me twice up against the counter before we both collapsed in a naked, tangled, sweaty pile on the cool floor. He'd slammed my back into the counter, grabbed both wrists fiercely and pinned me to it, and, most of all, screwed me so hard and so thoroughly I felt raw. I was battered and worn out, but it was a relief. It hurt to move, and I couldn't walk straight afterwards for the rest of the weekend. I got a few splinters, too, which is saying something considering that counter isn't even made of real wood. But I knew who I was with and who I belonged to.

And who my mind should be on.

But no matter how tired or how lost I was in Derek, the thoughts of Sam would always return to haunt me. No matter how hard I tried to get rid of them for good. No matter how much I reminded myself of Derek. No matter how many times I remembered how Sam had done me wrong. I did it completely without sensibility, but I suppose love is rarely ever rational.

You can love someone even if you have all the reasons in the world not to, to love someone else. In the end, the heart wants what it wants, I guess.

After all, a girl never forgets her first love... even if she should.

The only question is... what do I really want?

- Loren ;

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas (if I don't update again before then)! Thanks for all your reviews and for sticking with the story. I do it for you guys and your dedication. Seriously.


	21. Hallelujah

You may ignore the paragraphs below if you wish and skip right to the action because it's a helluva chapter. Really. Wisely, I've decided to say very little about it, only that it is action-packed and hopefully will surprise you. And probably quite long. And that I've been waiting to write this chapter FOREVER, and one of the characters was originally supposed to be a lot more evil, so it would be all Cruel Intentions-y. It's not quite as dark and twisted as I wanted it. But eh, maybe next chapter... Hmm, and it's supposed to be a little under a week away from last chapter. Or something to that effect. My timeline here may be rather off, but remember that this is probably mid-to-late January, although more along the lines of LATE January. Or at least later. Coincidentally, and I so did not know this when I was writing the fic, but Michael Seater's real birthday IS actually in January. Weird, eh? And I did research the hockey stuff, just so people don't think I'm making up the references. It's my new favorite sport, although I hate most sports. Lol. Oh, and some parts, specifically the end and the beginning get a little risqué. Just warning ya. Oh, and don't expect a happy ending...

Now, more cheerful things... Okay, so I feel the need to say that Sixteen Sparkplugs was, quite possibly, the cutest episode ever. I say this because I finally turned on the Disney channel at four in the afternoon on a Monday. Seriously, is it just me or is that the worst time slot ever? I'm likely to watch it at just about every other time than 4 on a Monday (I say this because I happen to live in the Central Time Zone, which is rather annoying, since everything's in Eastern, like the middle of the country doesn't even matter... although I guess it beats Mountain time), excepting during the school day. I mean, early A.M. Hours... fine. Weeknights, fine. Weekends, generally fine all over. But after school, not so much. Aww. And Michael Seater was beyond cute the whole episode. His bangs were totally great. Ah. It's my new favorite. And Casey was even nice to him!

And wow, Emily is getting much cuter clothes. Seriously, who knew Casey wanted to go into med school? Ooh, and I like Nora's hair again. It's growing out a little and it looks nice. But, seriously, how dumb do you have to be to misspell your stepsibling's last name? Marti's like, what, six/seven, and she can manage it! Lmao, textual harassment. Psh, why does Max get all the credit? For admitting he stole wrong answers? That doesn't really make him a good guy. It's not like he had much to lose by admitting that. And, plus, how tacky is that, cheating off your girlfriend's answers? I hate him. I mean, really, that doesn't make him any better than Derek. Besides, Derek at least tried to help Casey, despite the fact that it got her in more trouble. Max did nothing to help her, really. And he made a point to mention that the answers he stole from Casey were wrong, but if he knew that, why didn't he just get off his lazy ass and do them himself? Plus, come on, what kind of teacher wouldn't notice the fact that Casey's name was spelled wrong? I mean, even if you're a math teacher, I'm pretty sure most teachers can recognize a student's work by their handwriting. Generally you can tell if the person who's writing is a boy or a girl. And I mean anyone, not just graphologists or whatever.

And now just on to the story. Hopefully you'll like this chapter, although I have a strong feeling I'll be getting hate-mail. ;) Anyways, reviews are appreciated, and if you haven't read the previous chapter already, you ought to, because it helps explain a lot of the context for this chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

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"Is that any way to treat your new stepbrother?"

* * *

So, I had a pretty sweet wake-up call this morning. Okay, so it was approximately the crack of dawn, but still... I mean, what else could I expect? It's not like Casey can sneak in my room at seven in the morning without anyone noticing. 

I woke up at five-something, when Casey crawled under my covers. She wound her arms around my neck, pressing her lips roughly against mine. I was up in less than two seconds. When my lovely stepsister had to move back for air, I smiled. "I could get used to waking up like this," I muttered. Casey grinned and kissed me back, sliding her fingers up under my t-shirt. She was wearing her pajamas, though, and they happened to be just about the least sexy clothing ever. Pink flannel with a whimsical print? Comfortable, maybe, but hardly attractive. I trailed kisses down her neck as I started unbuttoning her shirt.

It came undone easily, and Casey reared back and practically threw it off to rejoin me back underneath the covers. I put my hands on the bare skin. It felt so smooth, so soft. She grabbed me forcibly by the collar, pulling me on top of her. She locked her arms behind my neck and kissed me deeper and deeper. Casey moaned softly and pulled my shirt over my head, haphazardly chucking it on the ground. It felt good. Damn good. Her fingernails dug into my lower back, but I didn't mind. I sighed raggedly and brought her closer, closer to me. Oh, god, how I wanted her. I hooked my fingers into her waistband, tugging at the pajama bottoms, seeking to rid her of them.

Casey licked her lips and adjusted her hips, and I could've sworn my eyes rolled back into my head. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ripped off her remaining clothes. I could feel Casey's heart beating faster and faster. She helped me out of my clothes, grabbing at my skin greedily, sliding right up against my side. Once again I found her straddling me. I wrapped my arms around her back, pulling her back down to me. My wet lips slipped down her cheek, over her jawbone, and down her neck. I used more pressure than usual this time, wanting to leave my mark. I wanted to brand her, to let everyone know that she was taken, even if I couldn't say it was by me.

I accidentally nipped her neck a little too hard, and Casey moved away from me just a little bit. I adjusted the sheets behind her so that they would cover her back. She was particular about things like that. She wouldn't move closer to me, but then she rocked her hips against mine, and that was more than enough for me.

She left, sweaty, at around six-thirty with messy hair, looking generally very disheveled (and flushed). Her clothes were backwards and buttoned wrong, and she'd lost her underwear somewhere in the chaos of my room. Nevertheless, she was beaming and radiant as she pressed one last kiss to my lips before tiptoeing out. I was equally pleased. But damn it if she didn't beat me to the shower. Gotta wash away the evidence, I guess. Casey should know by now that I'm not that stupid. For a moment, I just laid there, enjoying it. I could've snuck into the bathroom, like I wanted, but Casey needs her alone time.

We had this little talk about a day or two after she said yes to being my girlfriend about her "boundaries". And she mentioned her need for "time away from Derek" occasionally, because she wouldn't want an overload of me. Naturally, I pointed out that I half-consumed her life already before I'd even slept with her, much less even started going after her. Clearly the girl has no saturation point, but I give her the requested alone time. Her other main rule is no sex in the shower... or bathroom in general. Oh, and my car because it's old, smelly, and kind of cramped. Not that I blame her for that. Any part of the bathroom is off-limits because she deems it "unsanitary". Something about bacteria and our family having to use it too. So I don't get to just pop in on her, which kind of annoys me sometimes since I've had that fantasy for as long as I can remember.

The bathroom is... We've got history there. It just seems wrong to not be able to have sex with her all over the place in there, especially since it's the place where I first discovered that I wanted to have sex with her (when we were locked alone together in it, fighting during the party, for the record). I brushed it off then as hormones and a residual effect of the vodka someone had slipped into my soda. I can't even count the amount of times I've come on to her in there.

But I was still too stunned to move, even if I really wanted to. Casey had never, ever, ever done anything like that before. Sure, I'd had sex with her, but never in my own room, much less my own bed early in the morning. We usually had sex late at night when everyone else was sleeping. I would sneak past Lizzie's door and into Casey's room, lock the door, and emerge a few hours later with a wide smile on my face. And, if we were all alone, one of us would usually jump the other one the first place that was available... just as long as it wasn't the bathroom. The couch, the stairs, the counter, the dining room table, my recliner, up against the wall, the front door (obviously the side not on the porch), on top of the washing machine, one time even on the stairs. Man, that was a good time. My back still hurts from that. Nice angle, though.

Eventually though, I had to get up. I got up about thirty minutes after Casey left. No use lying around when I couldn't sleep (I was on too much of a high for that). I couldn't sit there marinating in my own juices any longer. That's another thing Casey's very fastidious about. She changes her sheets every time we have sex, so I've come to know every single set of sheets she has rather intimately. I bought her two new sets of sheets for our two-week anniversary. And no, that does not make me a sap! I just want the best. Her mother doesn't seem to notice her washing (and starching) sheets in the middle of the night. Unbelievably, Casey's also made me help and actually do my chores.

So I threw on some clothes and went to the shower to clean off. I got dressed shortly afterwards and "accidentally" ran into Casey in the hall. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have pulled her into a liplock right there, where any of our siblings could've walked in. Lifting her up in the air, although incredibly romantic, was probably also not a wise idea. But hell, if I wasted my life thinking about what's wise and what's prudent, I wouldn't get anything done. I'd be... I dunno... Edwin or something, and how tragic would that be?

She pushed me away after a very breathless five minutes, smiling nervously and straightening her clothing. "De_-rek_! Now I have to go redo my lipgloss!" Casey hissed. My name coming off her lips like that was music to my ears. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that she wasn't really mad at me. I reflexively wiped my own lips, and Casey headed into the bathroom. I checked out her choice in wardrobe. Black, tight-fitting sweater, a white, lacy camisole, red tights, plaid, pleated miniskirt, knee-high leather boots. Oh, yeah, I was one lucky guy.

Being the loving boyfriend I am, I waited out in the hallway for two minutes like a total idiot. She emerged moments later, smelling of the perfume I bought her for Christmas. I don't remember what it's called... Obsession or Poison or Addict or something dark like that. She also had on a new coat of extra-glossy lipstick, but I didn't really see the point. I mean, she was only going to eat in a few minutes at any rate, right? Casey walked briskly downstairs, and I followed her attentively. My definition of being a gentleman is not shoving her out of the way for food and allowing her to eat my cereal. If all these damn people didn't also live here, I'd share.

Ed and Lizzie came down after a while, and I looked up long enough from my eggs to notice that they seemed especially chummy. Luckily Casey didn't notice. She was busy doing some extra-credit work I'd kept her from doing. Super-keener... though I bet she'd agree that my diversion of choice was much, much, much more fun than her empty homework. Now, the kind of "work" we were doing won't get you any honors or extra points, unless it's for a class in, well, things they hopefully don't teach in school. I shot them a reproachful look, noticing that the idiots were holding hands. On the bright side, at least they weren't pulling dopey smiles at one another.

Seriously, though, those two need to learn a thing or two about discretion. Now, okay, Nora and Dad wouldn't notice it unless they walked in on the kids having sex. Before you call me a sicko, I seriously think that's what it would take. Our parents are the most oblivious couple of morons to ever walk this earth. For cryin' out loud, Dad got the year and date of Edwin's birth wrong! Besides... Pretty much everything else could be written off as friendly behavior, familial affection, or, in the event of something rather worrisome... experimentation. Actually, they might be happy to find out about me and Casey... if only because it means we would shut up sometimes.

Marti, well, she's too young to notice the difference. Casey, though... Casey's pretty sharp. She knew there was something going down and initially talked Lizzie out of it. The only reason she doesn't know now is because I take pains to get them out of the house, and I've got Casey so distracted she can only think about hiding the fact that I've been having sex with her for the past two weeks and five days. Wow. Nineteen days, and not a single real fight. Who would've ever thought that would happen? And jeez, counting? I sound like some pansy math geek.

Since my brother and his new paramour were so in a world of their own, I took it upon myself to deliver them with a warning. Or, rather, Edwin. That would obviously look less suspicious. Man, I am getting way too involved in helping them with their little relationship. It's sickening, and Derek Venturi does not matchmake. Though it does help serve my ends, and I'm not above using my brother to help me. Anyways, so I gestured to my brother and dragged him out of the kitchen. Literally, his and Lizzie's hands were practically glued together. Sickening, I tell you, this... puppy love. Bleck. I don't have the stomach for it.

So I pull the kid aside all scary-like, and Edwin's freaking terrified. But I don't give a crap about him and Lizzie, really. "Hey, idiot, do you think you could lay off on the PDA at the table? Casey's not blind. Some day will come when I won't be able to distract her, you know, and then she'll notice the way you're making goo-goo eyes at her sister. Then she'll notice Lizzie's returning them, and Casey's bound to put two and two together. Now, I think it's fairly safe to say Casey doesn't approve of you two dating, so you might want to be a bit more discreet," I advised shortly. I don't have much time to waste on this. After all, I've got to drive Casey to school. If I get there early, and the parking lot's completely deserted or somewhere else is free and clear, I get to make out with Casey.

I could seriously spend the rest of my life making out with that girl, so I don't have time to waste telling my little brother how to properly carry on a secret romantic relationship with his stepsister. The more I tell him, the more questions that will arise. Like, really, Derek? How are you distracting Casey exactly, complete with the suggestive tone. My kid bro's an inquisitive little hoser. Casey gave me a look before walking out the door. I was all too happy to oblige her. So then I ruffled his hair, grabbed my backpack, and damn near flew out of there.

Casey made sure I didn't speed by glowering at me whenever I went even a kilometer over the speed limit. Putting her hand on my knee would've been more effective, but it might've backfired. Plus it would've violated that whole no-action-in-the-car-rule of hers. We had time to spare. Enough time that we got there early and had a comfortable little time in the recycling room. Okay, so maybe we fell into the paper bin, but it makes a very comfortable couch or bed. We just made out, though. We weren't _that _early. Casey got kind of annoyed getting bits of shredded paper in her hair, and she made me clean up when the bin fell over. She left first, as was the custom. And then I had to clean up the damn place, so I wound up late to class. Not that I particularly cared.

Although Casey is in that particular class, and me showing up with slightly messy hair and lipstick all over my face raised a few questions. I'll skip the school crap because that's generally unimportant. Blah, blah, blah, work... Talking... I turned in my homework, in-class discussion... We had one later on Wuthering Heights. Some jackass was all, "Well, ew, they were raised together like brother and sister, so how were they attracted to each other?" Which, okay, that actually is a good point. It annoys me for the obvious reason, but Edwin told me something the other day about humans being predisposed to not be attracted to people they grow up with... like the first five years of life or whatever. Even if they're not physically related. So that whole brother-sister thing that shows up in Romantic literature is actually fairly disturbing. And cousins marrying, that too. It's all over those girly books Casey likes, albeit most of them don't actually marry said cousins. The creepy male cousins just want to marry them.

Again, ew. I have no hot cousins unless Vicky counts. My uncle the accountant sired a very ugly lot of girls. Pug faces and jowls like you wouldn't see on a human. I shudder to think of them, in fact. I was looking for Casey after class, but somehow she managed to elude me until lunch. She's been acting a little weird lately. I think something's up that she's not telling me. It's probably something with Max, the most painfully dimwitted jock of them all. Although, if he and his goons were harassing her again, I would definitely know about it. Why wouldn't she tell me something like that?

Unfortunately, Casey knew just as well as I did that I couldn't really talk to her about much of anything at lunch, especially since custom dictated that I sit down with Sam and Ralph and some of the other guys from the hockey team. Max has his own table of dweebs. A friend of mine interrupted the lunch conversation, addressing a question to me. "You know, Derek, I just noticed that you haven't bitched about Casey for weeks," He remarked interestedly. I glowered at him, not really liking that tone in his voice.

I faked a smile, looking at Sam. "Well, I knew Sammy was still hung up on her, and I didn't want to hurt him by reminding him about all of her unpleasant personality quirks," I commented dryly. The guys looked surprised at my fake consideration. Well, duh. Pretty much everyone knew I really hated the idea of Sam and Casey together. I grabbed my sandwich (roast beef, courtesy of Nora) and started in on it, taking a huge bite. I let my thoughts wander. Mm, that was some good meat.

Casey had sat with us before, but never when she'd been broken up with Sam. Maybe that was on purpose then... You think she's keeping something from me? Nah... I mean, I guess I could understand the need for secrets. Boundaries, Derek! That's what Casey would say, in a very exasperated tone, going on about how we've had this conversation a million times before and blah, blah, blah... I love the girl, but she talks ceaselessly.

I briefly debated inviting Emily to come over, but I decided it would only backfire in my face. She might think that I like her or something, which would be counterproductive, and either way, it'd raise unwanted questions. I stared moodily down at my meatloaf, poking it with my fork. At least, I _hope _this is meatloaf. I suddenly heard someone say my name, and my head shot up in the direction of the sound. It was this one friend of mine, David. C'mon, I'm the most popular guy in school. You think I don't have more friends than Sam and Ralph? Buncha winners they are. "Derek? Where were you, man?" He asked with a touch of concern.

Forcing a half-hearted smirk on my face, I just shrugged distractedly. I was zoning out and, heaven forbid, thinking! But obviously I can't say that. I've got a rep to uphold. "Thinking about how my dad's gonna kill me when he finds out I flunked that history test," I muttered vaguely. In reality I hadn't flunked anything, but it was very easy to believe given my record. David nodded sympathetically. It's so damn easy to lie. Some people will really believe anything. That being said, David is actually one of my smarter acquaintances.

Sam elbowed Ralph, grinning like the idiot he is. "He was probably thinking about his _girlfriend_," Sam drawled mockingly. I glowered at him irritably, although, admittedly, he was right. Pah, like I'm gonna tell him that! Especially since I'm dating his ex. Loser. Most of the guys started laughing. Ralph started laughing hysterically. You see, this is why I hate Sam. I don't like being made a laughingstock.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, get your own!" I retorted slightly viciously, feeling particularly annoyed. The grin fell off of Sam's face and those of the other guys. I felt slightly vindicated. But the other guys were giving me looks like I'd struck a blow to Sam or something. They were probably thinking of the Casey break-up. The details of said break-up were known to a select few, those few being myself, Casey, Sam, Trashy Cassy, and Dean. Dean doesn't go here, and no one would believe Trashy Cassy, who wouldn't tell anyone anyways. I guessed Sam had spread some crap that made him look a helluva lot better, maybe even blaming Casey for it. If he tried to blame her, I was going to deck him.

Sam held up his hands in a surrendering pose. Damn right. I'm in charge here, and don't you forget it! "Sorry, Derek," He muttered sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him. Real sincere. Then Sam looked up, a mocking smile curling on his lips. Man, I hate this kid. "What, did the girlfriend shut you out? You pissed because you're not getting any, Dere?" Sam questioned jeeringly.

If Casey still didn't give a crap about him, I'd have decked him for that. But, you know, appearances. He has to say something really bad before I punch him. Still, I refuse to let any dumbass talk to me like that, especially not Sam! The other guys made lame ooh noises and crap because things were heating up in the argument. I fought to maintain my cool, and then achieved it by reminding myself that I'd screwed his girlfriend this very morning. And that was immensely satisfying. My smirk reappeared and widened. "Could you be any more jealous?" I countered coolly.

Seriously, could he? So I've got a girl. He doesn't have to make fun of me for having a ball and chain. Especially since I've consistently gotten more tail than him my entire life. He lives off doing my LEFTOVERS. Playing the concerned and condemning best friend, I bet. Sam the Saint who cleans up Derek's messes. Excuse me while I hurl. Sam actually looked a bit hurt, but like I cared? Some of the other guys gave me dirty looks, but I had a better glare that I shot them to keep them all in line. Ralph frowned. "You know, Derek, Casey just dumped him for another guy. You should be more considerate of Sam's feelings," He chastised.

First of all, she dumped him two weeks and six days ago BECAUSE of a guy. As in the one he was fooling around with. I couldn't believe his lies. They were even worse than some of mine. I also couldn't believe Ralph said that, and neither could anyone else. We all kinda gaped at him for a couple minutes. And then I found my voice before that wenis Sam could say anything. I felt the need to defend Casey. Now, I wanted to bring up Dean and all that, but there was really no point in humiliating him right now. Casey wouldn't like it, and it would embarrass the poor girl too. "First of all, she dumped him almost three weeks ago. He should be over it by now," I countered callously, shooting Sam a glance. I know Casey is, but Sam's always been an immature, whiny turd.

Sam gasped at me like some innocent, attacked little virgin. But I know better, and I don't buy it. This man screwed the nurse. Ew. Oh, sure, play the victim. I'll just expose your sorry ass anyways. I had the nasty feeling I'd have to say why they broke up, leaving out Dean, of course. I don't know if he's even come out at any rate. He probably has, but he completely doesn't deserve a reputation as a homewrecker slut. Nice guy, really. "You can't get over love!" Sam hissed, and the whole table went dead silent.

I made the mistake of taking a sip of my soda at that very moment, so I spit out soda pretty much right into his face in disbelief. What does he know about that? Ha! He just knows lust and sex. Asshole. And how to be a crappy boyfriend. "What the hell do you know about love, Sam? You **cheated **on her and treated her like crap your whole relationship!" I snapped venomously, finally losing my temper. I want to castrate the little lying bastard. He thinks he can lie to me, Lord of the Lies! Me! I know everything that happens in this school, and I damn well know everything that happens in my own household! Who's he think he's talking to here? Did he forget that I LIVE WITH HER?!

Some of the guys looked surprised, but I didn't really care what they thought. Sam's an asshole. Even Sam seemed surprised, the stupid dumbass. He rolled his eyes. "Like you know any more than I do," He muttered. Half-assed retort, there, first of all. Secondly, yeah, I do. I know more about loving Casey because I do. About a million times more than he does, at that! Naturally, I couldn't say any of that.

But that didn't mean I was silent. I shook my head. I was about to say that I at least treat people with common decency, but I wisely decided against it. And I treat girls like human beings, not toys for my own amusement. And I'm better in the sack. Sam acts so EOA when he has completely no right to. Actually, I take that back. Calling him EOA is more of an insult to the other people than Sam. Besides, they're probably less white-trashy. "Oh, _yeah, _I'm sure that's why she caught you fingering Trashy Cassy at a party in the bathroom. Because you **love **Casey. Yeah, _right_," I snarled sarcastically, taking pride in the paleness of Sam's face and the stunned looks on the faces of all of our friends. Yeah, Sammy really did sink that low. "You loved Casey so much that not only were you stupid enough to invite her in while you were cheating on her, but you even expected her to join in! You love her so much that you stuck yourself into any wet _hole _you could find," I continued mercilessly. I shook my head, not possessing an ounce of pity for the lousy wenis. "So you don't get to lie to me, Sam, because I know exactly how low you sunk, and I know exactly **what **you did."

I sat up a little straighter in my chair and gazed around at all the stunned and silent faces around me. Yeah, I know, kids, jono. Some of them even looked angry, although I didn't know who they were mad at- myself or Sam. Frankly, I didn't give a damn. I don't even care what he says, because he really can't say anything. If it was possible, Sam paled even further, realizing that I knew about Dean. I shot him a smug grin to show him that, yes, I did know about him. I'd just refrained from mentioning him or the fact that Dean resembled myself noticeably. He swallowed weakly.

But then he seemed to remember something that gave him hope. I hated seeing that damn cheerful, screw-you-Derek look in his eyes. I wanted to kill that look. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Derek... She's already forgiven me. We'll be getting back together any day soon," Sam remarked casually. My eyes widened. My ass. He's lying through his teeth. Casey will never get back with him. She doesn't even want to look at him again.

I shook my head abruptly, refusing to believe him. "You're either lying or delusional. Casey said she wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole," I argued stubbornly, glaring at him. He just made it war. Maybe I will get a nice fist-fight in after all. I'm just dying to lick him. Like knock him out, not lick-him-lick-him. That would be nasty, and I don't swing that way. Besides, I've got Casey.

Sam, however, shrugged casually. I noticed our friends' eyes darting from one of us to the other. I pursed my lips, deciding they would come to my side. I was, after all, in the right here. He deserves to be ostracized for what he did. He snickered. "Well, she also said she'd rather have sex with you... And she obviously hasn't done that," Sam pointed out calmly, holding back some chuckles. She obviously hasn't? Why does he think she hasn't, huh? Just 'cause she hates me? And she did, dumbass! Loads of time. Besides, it's not like she had sex with him either! Um, I mean, at all. She shut him out. He said that like the mere idea of it was the most amusing, hilarious thing in the world, which it wasn't, and then he gave me this queer look, like he was waiting for something.

Did he know?

Oh, pah, like I give a care what he thinks! "Can't say I blame her!" For the first one, not the second, like Sam thinks. I'd love it if he knew I beat him to Casey. I'd love him to know that she's mine, M-I-N-E, mine, not his anymore! I wanted nothing more than to burst out with the truth, but I couldn't do that. It made me so damn pissed, though. I was one step away from exploding. "And she obviously hasn't had sex with you either, since you cheated on her with every little whore that came your way," I sniped back, feeling that something had shifted in our argument. I hadn't noticed that I'd stood up, but I had, probably ages ago. God, I wanted to leave the cafeteria and talk to Casey. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was looking at the two of us with worry and curiosity. I frowned before turning back to Sam.

He grinned like a dope, shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh, it won't be long, I'm sure," he replied drolly. My eyes narrowed in irritation. Contrary to his belief, Casey isn't that easy. And she's not getting back with him. If she could ever trust him again. Besides, who would want to be with him? Sexually or otherwise? I don't like that damn cocky tone of his. What's he plotting? Jeez, plotting? Makes him sound like a cartoon villain. Or like someone who actually plans things. "She's going to take me back." I scoffed, but Sam continued, sounding so damn assured. I hated him for it. "She loves me, and I love her. Why wouldn't she?" Sam asked rhetorically. Oh, he was definitely enjoying this.

I rolled my eyes. "She didn't say that!" I growled a bit more fiercely than I'd intended. Sam smirked. "She's over you," I stated, hating the way it sounded like I was trying to convince myself. But it was true, wasn't it? That's what she told me.

Sam merely shook his head, giving me a look like I was the naïve, idiotic one. Gah, I hate him! Asshole! Bastard. Rat bastard. I continued blissfully cursing him out in my head. "I seriously doubt that, considering she told me herself when I came over on your birthday," Sam muttered diffidently. He looked bored, actually. I, on the other hand, was steaming. He must be the asshole who rang the doorbell. And that's why it took Casey so long, and why the house was cold for like an hour afterwards. And he's the one who gave her that cheap, ugly necklace that she keeps looking at when she thinks I don't notice! I don't know who I'm more furious at, him or Casey! She lied, but... maybe Sam's lying. She probably didn't tell him that. I somehow managed to restrain myself from punching him. That was a miracle, by the way.

My blood was boiling in my veins. Sam's grin widened. Seedy bastard. I hate that smug look. He'd stood up too, crossing his arms over his chest righteously. "We've got a date for next Friday. I asked her just today, and she said yes," Sam explained, sounding quite full of myself. He's got to be lying, I told myself, but there was that stupid truthful gleam in his eyes. He's enjoying this way too much. If he enjoys it any more, he's gonna get his ass kicked. I shot Casey a frantic look, begging for denial or confirmation, but she was studiously looking away from the brewing brawl. I scowled and turned my attention back to Sam, fully ready to do battle with him. He leaned across the table all cool and seedy-like and gave me a sleazy wink. "It's only a matter of time before I seal the deal," He whispered, so close to me that I felt his stupid morning breath on my face. For a moment, I was surprised it didn't smell like men, the stupid brainer.

Then I found myself more enraged than I could ever remember being. I didn't throw myself at him right away, but I wanted to. "The only reason I didn't beat the crap out of you earlier was because Casey didn't want me to. But I refuse to let you get away talk about my sister that way!" I shouted, leaping across the table and socking him across the face. I fortunately managed to land on my back, but Sam fell to the ground like a bowling pin. A bowling pin that bruises like a peach and has a glass jaw. Predictably, Sam got up and tried to punch me while I was sitting up, but I blindsighted him with a left hook and sent him flying into the table. I was on my feet within seconds. It hurt, but it felt damn good to sock it to him. Bastard had it coming, and I've wanted to do that for months. Literally, months. It feels so very satisfying.

This time I was ready for Sam when he came at me, and I managed to move to the side just before he tried to tackle me, smoothly tripping him and catching his head in a headlock. I made breathing a little difficult for him and contemplated simultaneously punching him in the stomach before deciding that was too low-class for him. I didn't want to do any dirty tricks like him. So I held his head until he stopped struggling, and then I slammed him down on the floor. It wasn't worth fighting with him anymore when it was so damn easy to win, so I turned my back on him and started heading towards the door. Unfortunately, Sam managed to get up, and he hit me in the head with a lunch tray. The first time I was dazed, so he hit me twice more before I got my bearings. By that point, I was bleeding lightly from the head. I'd gotten a scratch and possibly a concussion. Like it was the first time.

I flung my arm out at Sam's stomach blindly, knocking the wind out of him. I could already see the bruises forming on his face, red now, but soon to be a motley of blue, black, and purple. Sam struck out at me again with the lunch tray, but I tore it out of his hands and threw it down. Sam tried then to attack me, but I instinctively punched him in the eye when I felt his hands on my shoulders. Sam fell back, clutching his eye and probably seeing stars. "You're not worth it," I muttered, panting lightly, wiping at my forehead.

Sam sat up angrily, holding his eye. His lips were in a thin line. "Goin' soft?" Sam asked lightly, breathlessly. I glared daggers at him. He was one to talk. He's not exactly the paradigm of manliness himself. Plus, why waste my sweat on Sam? I just shook my head and turned around. "Pussy!" Sam screamed so loud that everyone heard him and stared. Oh, no, I wasn't about to have that. I was anything but that. Sam lunged at me, grabbing my legs, trying to bring me down.

Nevertheless, I managed to stay standing and kicked out at Sam blindly. I whirled around, trying to push him off of me, but Sam just tried to grab me and... I don't know what. So, now seriously concerned for my safety, I shoved Sam off of me, kicking him away until I could stand. I stood over him. He was winded and tired, and I'd possibly broken something. Not that I wanted to. I wanted to tell him that fighting doesn't make you a man sometimes, but that would contradict my point. I was the bigger man. I was the one who tried to walk away. "You're one to talk," I growled instead, shaking my head in disgust and leaving abruptly. Especially since he's a bitch. Only when I was outside did I start swearing, and I felt the pain of my head. OUCH.

That didn't feel like a plastic tray! I had a giant lump forming on my head, a bunch of them really. And all of them hurt like bitches. Okay, so let's see... I'll probably get expelled and/or kicked off the hockey team for fighting... although that's a valuable skill in hockey, so whatever... In addition to getting a serious grounding. And I'll have to go to the doctor, and Dad'll probably make me pay for it. And Casey's gonna be pissed at me, assuming I'm even still secretly dating her in the first place, since apparently she's got Sam back in her life. And I can't compete with love. Not her love for him. I'm the one who's going to lose. I'm the one who she's played for a fool, and I'm going to be the one to suffer from all of this. And then they'll laugh it up.

No one cares about poor Derek. I get it.

Well, where is Casey anyways? Might as well get this thing over with quick so I can get the hell out of Dodge. And figure out how this is all going to work afterward. God knows I've got no idea. Aw, hell, I never even deserved Casey in the first place... Might as well just accept the inevitable. But still, it's worse to lose her to someone like Sam, who's worse than me, and not even part-way decent. She deserves better than that, at least.

Speak of the devil. Casey came running out of the cafeteria towards me. I was somewhat surprised. Sam hasn't even gone to the nurse yet. I'm sure there must've been some teachers inside too, but no one's come out to get me. The principal hasn't even shown up yet. The hallway remained eerily empty. She immediately came over to me, putting her hands on the sides of my face tenderly. She hesitantly moved one of her hands to my forehead, touching one of the bumps gently. I hissed in pain, and Casey wiped away a little blood. "Care to tell me what that was all about?" She asked in a surprisingly calm, level voice.

I thought she'd be mad or worried that I told him or something. I shrugged, gritting my teeth as she probed another of my injuries. "You heard what I said. I wasn't going to let him talk about you like you were an object. I wasn't going to sit there and let him play the victim," I muttered somewhat irritably, getting steamed just thinking about it. Casey smiled faintly and kissed me softly. Wow. I actually get rewarded for my idiocy. Maybe she isn't going to dump me after all.

When Casey pulled back, she was still smiling. She hadn't even glanced around the hallway to see if anyone was there. "Thank you," She breathed somewhat shyly. I couldn't believe my good luck. She hadn't even been suspicious or asked about anything else. That wasn't the only reason I punched him. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

That should've been enough for me, it really should have. But it wasn't, and I opened my stupid mouth and asked the dumbest question of them all. "Sam said you're going out with him next Friday. Is that true?" Casey looked visibly stunned this time, stunned into silence. And that's when I knew something was horribly wrong. I'd surprised her with my knowledge, and it had shut her up. So it was true, then.

Casey looked down, her cheeks heating up. "Yeah, 'bout that... I was going to tell you, Derek," She mumbled shamefully. She played with her fingers, swinging her arms. I was stone still, rigid with fury. I couldn't believe that she would be so... deceitful. For a long while, I just stared at her, shaking my head. I took a step back, still somewhat in disbelief.

And then I found my voice. "_When_, Casey? When you went out with him? When you dumped me for him?!" I retorted, raising my voice. Casey looked around, once again paranoid. My eyes narrowed. I shot her a look of disgust. "I had to find out from Sam, Casey. Sam! You couldn't even have the decency to tell me yourself!" I snapped, voice crackling with rage. My eyes raked her over hot coals. At first Casey stuttered, looking down guiltily, but then she brought her head back up to look at me.

Her eyes were dark, and her voice was quiet. "I mean it, Derek... He just asked me after third period. I tried to say no, but..." Casey said almost pleadingly. She sounded refreshingly sincere. Casey bit her lip, reaching out to grab my hand. "Derek... It's just one date. And probably nothing will happen." She sounded so innocent when she said that, but I knew better. Sam doesn't seem to think so, after all. Maybe he has a reason to think so. I mean... _probably_? If she wants to convince me, she ought to tell me nothing will happen. Definitely, not probably.

"Okay, then, if that's really true, then would you explain to me why Sam seems to think that you're going to be getting together soon?" I countered furiously. Casey's eyes widened, and I dropped her hand. Well, at least she looks surprised. But, come on, any idiot knows it's headed in that direction. "Why he seems to think that you'll be having sex with him all of a sudden when I know you don't even want to _touch _him ever again?" I continued in frustration. Casey's jaw dropped, and I knew the surprise was genuine this time around. Man, Sam is a tacky whore. Casey should just blow him off.

Casey shrugged, but she looked a little angry. "Sam is clearly delusional. I would _never _have sex with him," Casey swore vehemently. I felt myself smiling. "I didn't know he thought of me that way. Like I'm that cheap and easy like his little whore," Casey said bitterly. Her own eyes narrowed, and I felt much better. Yes, maybe I've driven a wedge between them for good. Maybe she's finally all mine.

I grabbed her hands, pulling her closer to me. "So stand him up, Casey. Don't go. Tell him no. Leave him behind you," I implored in a breathless whisper, clutching her hands in desperation. Casey frowned, looking uncomfortable. I began to worry anew. And maybe, then again... She shook her head, exhaling heavily, and she looked me in the eyes.

She dropped her hands out of mine. "You know I can't do that, Derek." Oh, yeah, I know. Why can't she? Why can't she forget about Sam? Haven't I been a thousand times a better boyfriend than him? Haven't I treated her right? Haven't I loved her more than he could ever imagine? Casey's eyes were wet with unfallen tears. "You can't forget your first love. Sam will never be what I wanted or what I deserve, I know that. But, for whatever reason, I still love him, and he'll always have a place in my heart," Casey explained passionately. I felt like I'd been shot. But I wasn't that surprised. There it was, everything unspoken out on the table. She loves him, yeah, yeah, yeah.

There was a tiny spark of hope left, though. Sam isn't what she wanted, even if she still loves him. But then... what is what she wanted? Am I even what she wants? The words bubbled out of me before I could stop them, bypassing my brain and issuing straight from my mouth. "You didn't agree because you couldn't say no. You agreed because you're still in love with him, and you **want **to start things back up again!" I snarled accusingly. It was still so unbelievable to me. That she actively seek pain and disappointment like that. Casey actually looked scared, probably because I was in her face and more furious than she'd ever seen me. Or maybe she was scared because she knew I was right.

She shook her head defiantly. "That's not true, Derek! I said yes because he was _pathetic, _and he didn't give me much of a choice! It was going to be a pity date, okay?! Just a pity date!" Casey argued ferociously, coming right back in my face. "I don't..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. In reality, she was unable to say that she didn't still have feelings for him, and she couldn't think of a way to end it. "Don't be angry, okay?" I rolled my eyes. That was, quite possibly, the most idiotic thing she has ever said.

How does she expect me to not be angry, even if she's innocent? "It's more than that, and you know it, Casey." I shook my head, lips curling up unpleasantly. "Oh, no... I'm not angry at you for hurting me. I'm _furious. _I'm pissed that you're going to go back to someone who would treat you so bad. Someone who doesn't even care and so blatantly doesn't **deserve **you. You're better than that, Casey. If you're going to leave me, at least leave me for someone _better_!" I yelled savagely. Like Noel. Or Tinker. Or Trevor. Or Sheldon, even. I don't mean that they're necessarily better than me, but they're at least nicer. And pretty much anyone's better than Sam except Max (those two are par for the course, really). Those guys... they'd at least treat her good.

Casey started to say something, but I interrupted. "Don't you have more self-respect than that? I find it hard to believe that you could forgive him so easily. The first time we met, I hit on you. You threw a vase at my head, screamed at me, and held it against me for the rest of my life," I remarked pointedly. Casey stiffened, clearly remembering the incident. I honestly didn't even remember what I said. I was kind of hungover, so I said something that might've been slightly obscene. I'm not sure I even knew she was my stepsister then, but Casey definitely knew I was her stepbrother, so she grabbed the vase off the table and aimed for my head. Fortunately, I ducked, and the vase hit the wall.

"I am not a hypocrite, Derek! Just because I forgive Sam doesn't mean I forgot what he did to me. I remember. And it sure as hell doesn't mean I trust him or that I want to be with him again," Casey retorted, coming towards me. The anger was sparking in her eyes. It was the first argument we'd had since we got together, and it felt safe, familiar. I'd say like coming home, but it wasn't the kind of fight we were used to. Nevertheless, I'd missed seeing that side of her, the feisty side. She grabbed me by the collar, looking up at me with beseeching eyes. "Why can't you trust me?" Casey begged, wrapping her arms around my neck and shooting me a smoldering look.

I wanted to trust her. I wanted to trust her so badly. But I couldn't do it, and I knew why. "Because you don't love _me_, Casey! You love **him**!" I shouted. Casey flinched as if she'd been hit. I leaned against a locker, panting. There it was. I'm not that stupid, Casey. I thought I was okay with her not loving me, but I don't think I ever was. I can't erase Sam out of her mind, no matter how strongly I feel. Or, apparently, even how much of an ass he is. So how can I be sure that she's not going to cheat on me? I can't. If I was dating someone, and I had the opportunity to get with Casey, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Albeit I'd dump the other chick. Emotional adultery is still cheating. Not that we're married or anything. Just this morning she was kissing me, having sex with me...

Casey laughed, patting my arm. "That's it? You're jealous of Sam? How stupid!" Casey exclaimed, quick to laugh it off. She thought I didn't see the way she avoided my eyes, the way she looked away, that damn nervous tremor in her voice! Oh, but I knew better than that! I'm no fool!

"Were you just using me until something better came along? Was I practice? What am I to you, Casey?" I growled, ripping her hands off of me. I wrapped my hands around her forearms, pulling her closer. I wanted to ask her how she feels about me, but I couldn't do it. That would be too needy. And... maybe I don't want an answer to that question because I won't like what I'll hear. She stayed silent. She couldn't answer that question. I was tempted to ask her whether she even cared at all. I wondered if she'd been waiting for this all along, or if it was just some sick form of revenge... "Is that all this is? Revenge? Did you just pick me to screw with Sam?!" I bit back, feeling like something had snapped inside of me.

Casey paled a little, and just when I thought I couldn't feel worse, I did. I felt like wolves had each of my limbs in their teeth and were slowly pulling me apart. She looked down. So it was for revenge, huh? I stiffened but didn't let go of her. For a moment, I just stared, unable to speak. There were no words. But Casey struggled. "It's not like that, Derek! That's not why I... why I... That's not it!" She sounds real convinced, doesn't she? I managed to subdue her, and her voice dropped an octave. "I care about you," She murmured. I just laughed bitterly until Casey cut me off with a passionate kiss, leaning forward and wrapping herself around me.

If I was a lesser man, that might've distracted me like it was intended to. I'm not gonna lie. It was a helluva kiss. But it didn't make me forget. Besides, we were in the hallway, and anyone could walk by. I shook my head, pulling away from the kiss with a loud smacking sound. I looked Casey straight in the eyes, wanting honesty. "It's either me or Sam. You can't have us both, and I'm not about to play second fiddle. So choose." Yes, I actually presented it that bluntly. I knew deep down that she was never going to choose me anyway. But I'm not going to be with someone who doesn't want me.

She was livid. "You have no right to ask me that, Derek!" She shrieked, knocking my hands off her. Oh, don't I? I was tempted to retort back, but Casey kept on talking. "If I wanted to be with Sam, I'd be with him now. This is really ridiculous, Derek. It's just one date. You're completely overreacting," Casey pointed out with a cooler head than mine. Honestly, she might well have been right. Maybe I was overreacting a little, but I was jealous, and my "friend" had just told me he was dating her. Again. My girlfriend, not his. I told him to get his own. It sounds kind of like she chose me if you listen to it like that, but I knew I'd only lose in the end. She didn't really want to choose either of us. But I was mad enough to overlook what she'd said. No matter how many times she said she didn't want to be with Sam, I didn't really believe her.

As far as I was concerned, it was only a matter of time before she hooked up with him again. She was nuts if she didn't think it was killing me to do this. Because it was. I saw things clearly then. She loves Sam. She's going to be with him sooner or later, and I'm not about to have her stolen away from me. I saw the haunted look in her eyes, and I realized how flat she was, how dead, how completely devoid of animation she was. It wasn't worth it to hold on to her like that. She wasn't my Casey; she was just a stranger. Then I saw everything... I saw the future pity in her eyes as she looked at me, that this was her way of not hurting me. I didn't want to be strung along anymore. I knew what I had to do. "I might be overreacting, but I'm **not **about to get dumped for Sam. You don't want to be with me, and I'm not going to force you. Obligation _ended_," I finished in a voice so cold it could've made Nunavut look warm. Definitely, definitively over.

I turned away from Casey, adopting a stoic expression, and pushed her hands away from me. Like I was going to let her cheat on me? Casey stared at me in confusion and disbelief. What's there to misunderstand? I've made myself perfectly clear. It's over. End of story. I'm no chump. Her jaw had actually dropped, and I felt a sense of pride that I'd been able to stun her. Hadn't done that much lately. I was getting all predictable and lovelorn. Then she was staring at me with those eyes, those damn crystal blue eyes of hers. Let's face the truth of it here, Case. You jumped at the chance to get back with Sam again without even giving me a second thought. And I am no afterthought. "I..."

What, is that all you can say? I rolled my eyes, straightening my posture icily. "But I didn't... Nothing happened, Derek. Why... why are you doing this?" Casey stammered, looking more upset than I would've ever expected of her. Didn't she get that I was setting her free? If Sam's what she really wants... then I have no claim to her. I tried. I tried so hard. But you can't make someone love you. Not even me. I don't think Casey will ever love me.

She's probably just upset that I'm "leaving" her. "Why do you care, Case? Why are you so upset?" I rejoined abrasively. Casey flinched, and it actually looked as if she was going to cry. I felt bad for that, admittedly, but I was more upset. It hurt to see her looking all sad about it when I knew it was so fake. She sniffed, and I rolled my eyes, hoping I looked bored as hell with the conversation. I didn't want to drag it out any longer. I waited a few moments for her to answer my question, but nothing was forthcoming. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see Coach. Maybe if I talk to him, I can convince him to talk to Lassiter about not suspending me and letting me play hockey," I muttered rather grimly, reminding her of how I'd beaten up her ex because of her. I gritted my teeth, somehow knowing that was an incredible mistake.

When I turned my back on her to leave, her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. She twisted me around to face her with an almost crazed look in her eyes. "Derek, c'mon... Don't do this. We're not finished yet," Casey appealed to me in desperation. It was true, even though I wanted to admit it. She meant that we weren't finished talking yet. There were so many holes in this break-up thing, so many things not accounted for or negotiated that she probably just wanted to straighten things out. I don't want to have that lame post-break-up conversation, especially not now. I don't even want to think about it. I've got enough to worry about without thinking about my failed relationship.

I gave her a look that could melt a hockey rink, glowering at her with a particular malice. "Forgive me, but I'm not in the mood," I hissed. My eyes narrowed so much I thought I was cross-eyed for a second. Casey frowned, looking put off. Probably wanted to talk about her feelings. What is up with girls and talking about their feelings? I just want to forget about mine. I shook my wrist free from her grip abruptly. "I've got to practice if I want to be the next Gretzky," I vowed. Yes, think about hockey. Hockey is good, dependable, safe. I may not be a psychic prodigy, but I can be better with hours of practice every day. "Later," I said, fixing her with a look.

Then the bell rang for the next lunch period, and people started streaming into the hallways from the cafeteria and classrooms. I turned my back on Casey and took the opportunity to disappear into the crowd. Nevertheless, I could hear her shouting after me in anger. "Screw you, Derek!" A smirk played on my face for a while. Yeah, Casey, you already did. This morning, even. I forced the thoughts of her out of my mind, intent on focusing on the task ahead of me. I breezed past everyone, only stopping when I reached Coach's office. I found myself standing in front of his door, holding my breath. Suddenly I wasn't so sure it'd work.

That being said, I took a deep breath and waltzed right in anyways. Coach immediately turned to look at me, giving me the nod. I felt nervous, but I tried to push it aside. "Venturi, what are you doing here?" He barked. I wasn't afraid of Coach. He likes me, says I'm like a son to him, even. I was more afraid of the situation and possibly losing the only thing that might hold me together.

I swallowed hard. He was not going to like this. "Sam and I... kind of got into a fight at lunch." Coach gave me a skeptical look, encouraging me to go on. "Okay, we did." Coach motioned for me to continue. I sighed, "And I won, I guess." Coach nodded and stood up from behind his desk, scrutinizing me.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you how you've probably screwed up team dynamics. You're lucky Sam's a defenceman and not one of your wingers, or else you'd probably be screwed. So let's get down to it... How bad is he hurt?" Coach said quite diplomatically. I liked that he was one of those guys who just said what he was thinking. Very direct. Being direct is good in a hockey player. Like our power forwards, for instance, huge and direct. I pondered the question for a minute, trying to remember how badly I'd injured him. It hadn't felt that bad, but my knuckles were pretty bruised.

Shrugging, I answered him, "Dunno. I punched him and threw him around a little, but I didn't really injure him. Black eye, maybe some bruised ribs... something with his jaw. I don't think I broke anything." I mentally added it up... bruised chin, probably not broken, bruised cheek, I think, black eye, maybe broken ribs from me kicking him... And I did punch him in the stomach... Doesn't sound like anything serious, really. Coach nodded contemplatively.

"Okay. Well... Sounds all right. You could be in for some trouble if his ribs are hurt, but other than that... Sounds like you just roughed him up a little." If you're wondering why Coach is so calm, it's because fighting is a great hockey tradition. You get awful penalties for it, of course, but that's how a hockey player earns respect. By fighting. Besides, if your goalie's good enough, then you can stand it. Our goalie's _more _than good enough, but they discourage fighting on high school teams. It'd be different if I was in a midget league. Seriously, though, Ralph is good at two things: being a goalie and playing the drums. Coach scrutinized me. "What was the fight about, Derek?"

I stiffened reflexively and looked away evasively. I didn't particularly want to tell him. What business of his was it anyways? But maybe I ought to tell him... if, you know, I want him to help me and all. Coach gave me a look, leaning forward, hands on his desk. "Venturi, level with me. I need to know what your beef is with Sam. Can't have it starting up again on the ice. Whatever's been going down with you two has been going down for a while... It just finally exploded today. Tell me, Venturi. What sent you over the edge?" Coach questioned frankly.

For a moment I debated what to say. I momentarily pondered whether I should say I'm in love with Sam's... uh... ex-girlfriend? Is she still his ex? But he could figure out that was Casey, and I can't betray her like that. Or myself, really. She probably doesn't want anyone to know. I shook my head to clear it of the thoughts. "My stepsister. Sam was dating my stepsister off and on. She caught him cheating on her at a party on New Years', and she dumped him right there. Then this lunch, Sam was saying all this crap, trying to make himself out to be the victim. And I just couldn't take it, so I called him on his lies. Then he told me he was going out with her again, and he made this comment, talking about her like she was an object. And I snapped. And then we fought for a while, and I had him down, so I tried to walk away. But he wouldn't let me. So I beat him up until I could get away," I explained dryly. Wow. I managed to say that without rage. Impressive.

Coach nodded, frowning a little. He didn't like that it was the kind of problem that wouldn't exactly disappear. Neither did I, for that matter. Things would be so much... simpler. He squinted, walking out from behind his desk, coming to stand next to me. He eyed me quizzically, firmly touching my forehead and pulling it back. It came back bloody. Coach frowned, grabbing a tissue and wiping the blood off his hand. "You didn't tell me Sam got you too." I shrugged. It wasn't that bad. It didn't really matter much to me, I guess. Then Coach walked back over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He asked me some questions in a gruff voice and then performed a test on me. Apparently I failed it, because he removed his hands from my shoulders a few moments later, shaking his head. "You've got a concussion, Venturi. Now I want you to avoid further head trauma and go to the hospital and see a doctor. Pronto," Coach ordered. So that's what that splitting pain in my head is. And why I feel kinda dizzy. Hmm, that's nice. Damn Sam.

His frown deepened into a scowl. "Looks like you won't be playing hockey for a while, Kid."

My eyes bulged. He couldn't! Not now, not when I needed it the most! Deep down I knew he was right. It wasn't healthy for me to play injured. I only risked getting more injured by playing. But I wanted to play so badly, to pour all of myself into something productive so I could forget... forget that Casey wouldn't be there waiting for me anymore. "No, Coach! I _need _hockey!" I pleaded desperately, grabbing him by the arm. I would've gotten down on my knees then and begged him to let me play. "Please, _don't _do this to me," I requested with more emotion than I ever remembered showing my coach before.

Coach frowned, shaking his head. He put his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes. "I know, Derek," He said understandingly, patting my shoulder. His compassion was both startling and somewhat comforting, but I... how could he understand it? Coach was in the NHL before, you know, and I might never say this out loud, but I do really look up to him. He's more concerned about me than my own father half the time, since Dad is absentminded and clueless. Dad's so weak, but Coach will yell at me without thinking if I do something wrong. I kind of need that and like that sometimes. "But, Venturi, I can't put you in 'til you're better. If I do, I'm just risking your health, maybe even your life. A concussion is serious stuff, kid. I can't say you won't get injured out there even when you're at full health. But if you play injured, you're as good as a dead man walking out there," Coach declared matter-of-factly.

A concussion is a pretty bad injury, but players have played through worse... broken bones, severe back pain, the list goes on... I don't see why I can't do the same. I scowled. "Mario Lemieux played with far more serious health problems than mine." A herniated disk, a broken hand. He led the Canadian team to win the 2002 Winter Olympics. He had to have shots of painkillers to get him on the ice. He beat cancer. He scored five goals on the day he completed his last radiation treatment. His back pain was so severe that he couldn't even bend over to lace his skates. And he still played. The man is a living legend.

At this remark, Coach's eyes narrowed. "Trust me, I know, Venturi. I played with Mario." His tone was steely. I raised an eyebrow. I'd never known that. He never said which team he played with... Coach smiled. "He's probably the nicest, strongest person I have ever known. He was a true inspiration to us all," Coach said almost dreamily. I nodded, knowing the feeling. I'd seen him on the ice. Coach moved away, clapping his hand on my shoulder affectionately. "But even Mario knew when to take a rest. So go home, see a doctor, and get some rest. And come back as soon as your doctor says it's okay. There'll be a spot waiting for you. Until then... You're still team captain," Coach said with a warm, friendly smile.

That was as good as saying that I could come back and help him with the team. I found myself smiling. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how tired I really was. Then he took his hands off my shoulder, walking back to his desk. He motioned for me to leave, but I didn't budge. Coach gave me a kind of sour look. "Now go on home, Venturi. Don't worry about it. I'll call all your teachers and talk to Lassiter for you. You just go to the hospital, okay. And get someone else to drive home for you, like that stepsister of yours," Coach demanded, fixing me with a stern look. I nodded solemnly, and my vision swam for a minute. As soon as my eyes cleared, I turned and walked back into the main hallway.

The crowd parted like the red seas for me. Gasps and whispers followed me, but I didn't care. All I saw was Casey, and she was waiting for me by my locker, looking concerned. I wanted to ditch her there, but I couldn't do that. Coach was right. I needed her. A helluva lot more than I was willing to admit to anyone, least of all her. So I walked up to her as cool as can be and grabbed her arm. She looked at me, all worried, but I brushed it off. She struggled to keep up with me. "Derek, what's wrong? Are you okay? You look feverish!" She exclaimed anxiously in a rush of questions.

I shrugged, wiping at the blood on my forehead. It was still warm, and I was still bleeding. I frowned, and suddenly I realized I was holding her hand. We came upon the door, and I pushed it open, pulling her out with me. I didn't look back at her, but it reassured me to know she was there. "I've got a concussion, and you're going to drive me home. A legitimate family emergency," I elucidated rather abruptly. We headed to the car, and Casey helped me in the passenger's side like I was a bleeding invalid. Maybe I was bleeding, but I wasn't any invalid. I slammed the door shut, and Casey got in the driver's side. She carefully started down the road that led to home.

After that, I don't remember much. I was so tired. It took so much effort just to keep my head up, and I could barely manage that. My eyelids were so heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, fuzzy and thick with sleep, and no matter how smoothly Casey drove, my head jerked up and down... every which way, really... so often that I'm almost positive I got whiplash. The cycle repeated itself over and over, and sometimes Casey would glance over and notice my eyes were closed. Then she would yell and make awful noise and smack me lightly on the arm. You're not supposed to fall asleep when you've got a concussion, I think. It can result in death or something. Eventually, though, we skidded to a stop in the driveway, and Casey helped me out of the car. Turns out I needed her help more than I thought.

At first, I was so tired I forgot that I was furious with her, forgot that I resented her, forgot even that I'd dumped her. Well, that's not true. I remembered that dimly, but it suddenly seemed to me such a mistake. I wanted to take it all back. Casey helped me inside, sitting me down on my recliner. She put a cool hand on my forehead, frowning at me. "Okay... I'll get you some ice for your head and some coffee to keep you up. I'll be right back, Derek," She murmured calmly, softly pressing her lips against mine. Then she left, and I felt my weary eyes close.

She came back a few moments later, bearing tea and a towel filled with ice. I woke up when I felt her hands lightly slapping my cheeks. Pursing her lips, Casey leaned forward, holding the makeshift ice pack to my head. She picked up the hot tea, blowing on it and carefully holding the mug to my lips, tipping it back just slightly enough so that I could drink. As she predicted, the heat and caffeine woke me up and made my head clear again. But I wasn't angry, not at first. And I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. She'd looked after me when I'd been so awful to her. Maybe she wasn't lying. Maybe she did care. Maybe she wouldn't leave me for Sam.

So I sat up, wretchedly hopeful, and she set the mug down on the coffee table. What, no coaster? And then I grabbed her wrists, and there was a wild look in her eyes, almost like she was afraid of me. It stung, but for a moment I just reclined there and stared at her, drinking her in, in total disbelief that she had ever been mine to have. I'd never taken her for granted, but I'd gotten accustomed to her. Dangerous things happen when you start getting used to people. Then I leaned forward, so that I was only inches from her lips, but I didn't kiss her. I licked my lips. Yes, it was all a mistake. An awful mistake, and I had to correct it. "Casey... We need to talk," I whispered raggedly, urgently. I couldn't let her go on thinking that...

Casey stiffened in my arms and pulled back. She stared at me like I was a stranger, jerking her wrists from my grip. But I didn't let go. My formerly soft grip turned hard and unforgiving, digging into her wrists, pulling on her so she couldn't leave. Casey struggled, but she knew I was stronger. I pulled her forward, into my lap. She shook her head, shouting, "No! Let go of me, Derek! _Let me go!_" Her screams were loud and piercing like battle cries. She managed then to wrench her wrists from my hands and flung her fisted hands at my chest. Her fists hit my stomach, my ribs, like a drumbeat, one after the other. One, two, one, two, one, two... a steady staccato beat like my heart, fast and hot and desperate. I did let her go.

She shook her head, finally stopping, breathless and with hot tears streaming down her face. Casey moved back so that she was no longer straddling me. She swiped at her eyes as if embarrassed or ashamed. Funny. I hadn't even cared about the tears. She took a deep breath to steady herself, straightening her posture. "I think we both said all we had to say earlier," She replied stiffly. She pursed her lips, pausing for a moment, and a rather bitter smile crossed her lips. "Well, at least _you _did." I frowned. She was wrong, so wrong! I opened my mouth to talk, to contradict her, but she silenced me with a finger to the lips. "And it's all right. I concur. You were right, Derek. Maybe I do want to go out with Sam after all. I love Sam, and I don't see what I was trying to hold on to with you... Let's just call it shock and temporary insanity," Casey supplied coolly in a low voice.

I gaped at her. She was so cold, so unfeeling. The tears she'd cried- for whatever reason- were gone. Only traces of them remained on her cheeks, remnants of areas she hadn't completely dried. And then my blood started to boil again. She thought so little of me and was practically laughing at something that had meant a lot to me. Relationships like that don't happen to me. "Temporary **insanity**?!You're writing off our entire relationship as _temporary insanity_?!" I growled, hearing a dangerous instability in my own voice. My tone was already verging on hysteria. I could've strangled her. How coldly she'd said that, as if she'd never felt anything for me, as if she'd never seen one damn thing in me.

Casey moved even further away from me, and her lips curled into a very familiar smirk. My smirk, the one I taught her, one of many things I taught her. I hated the obscene sight of that careless, smug, victorious grin on her face. She had me cornered like a rat, and she knew it. Then she made it worse by letting out a showy chuckle. "What would you prefer I call it? An attack of hormones? Being in the wrong place at the right time? My misfortune?" Casey quipped cuttingly. Her words were like a razor blade slashing across my neck. She crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her hip. She snorted at the look on my face, roughly caressing the side of my face. Her nails lightly scratched my cheek. "After all, Derek, we were never really in a relationship, now were we? You never took me out in public, never told a soul... We just had an agreement once, that's all, and now it's concluded. End of story," Casey stated icily, a mocking smile on her lips.

She patted my cheek, slapping it. "Poor little Derek," She cackled. Poor Derek indeed. Poor brokenhearted Derek, in love with an absolutely indifferent girl. A girl who didn't care if he lived or died. The pain cut straight to the heart, not bothering to mess around with the other organs. It even overshadowed my headache. I forgot entirely about the concussion, and I thought that this, at least, was one pain Mario Lemieux had probably never played with... the worst pain of all. A broken heart made arrhythmia look like a cakewalk.

I felt like I was going mad, and I was. I was losing it, or at least losing everything that mattered.

For my part, I could only stare at her in disbelief. Where was the Casey I knew? The Casey I loved? The one I thought I could trust? The one that let me... Where was she? I didn't know this jaded, corrupted girl standing in front of me. Her eyes boasted that she'd bested me, speaking of that final victory. It was that defeat she'd been longing for for so long. I hated that victorious gleam in her eyes. I wanted to tear them out and make it go away. Because I wasn't going down without a fight.

That was a lie, though. I had taken her out in public, albeit in Toronto. An agreement. She called our relationship an agreement, and not just that, but a temporary one. No, not end of story. Like the song goes, "she said it was over, but it was not over." Na na na-na na. This won't just disappear like she wants it to. I scowled at her, trying to cover up the hurt that was probably showing on my face. I sat up so fast I made myself dizzy, reaching out to her. She dodged me, but my hand snatched her wrist. I used her to pull myself up, staring at her defiantly.

"You're wrong, Casey. It won't just go away, and you won't forget. I can promise you that," I snarled, pulling her towards me roughly. My grip was definitely bruising. Casey looked like she was about to laugh, so I silenced her with a hand over her mouth. Like I cared if she bit me. "I'll let you go, Casey. But not without conditions," I agreed, scheming. I knew exactly what my conditions were. Then I pushed her back, letting her go.

Casey raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in silent disagreement. "You must be kidding, Derek. There are no conditions to a break-up," She retorted cruelly. But you see, that's where I had her. Because for all her pretty words about how we didn't have a relationship... she still thought we did. The balance of power was in my hands again, and you can bet I capitalized on it.

This time I let out a harsh, caustic laugh. "Look at you, Space Case, talking like we had a bona fide relationship," I snorted, eyes narrowing in rage. Casey reddened but still managed to hold her head up high. She shouldn't. "You seem to have forgotten that we had an agreement. Agreements involve conditions, so I'm only demanding what I have a right to have," I countered with a smirk crawling across my face. It didn't feel genuine, though, and I only felt sleazy for what I was going to ask of her. But damn it, didn't I have the right? Didn't I deserve something more than this?

Casey's eyes became narrow slits like the Venetian blinds in the living room, turning that electric blue shade I became so familiar with during our arguments. She put her hands on her hips stubbornly, refusing to even acknowledge what I said. "Why don't we call it what it really was, Derek?" Casey asked sharply, in a voice that was slow and frosty. Her eyes met mine piercingly, literally cutting me into a million pieces. Why did it matter? I was already all shattered. Unbelievably, it got worse, and I felt my own guilt eroding. This had probably all been buried beneath the surface of this supposedly idyllic relationship, this awful disdain, and I'd never seen it. "A _mistake_. On my part," She snapped caustically, knowing full well that each word blistered and burned my heart like hot oil. She'd finally said it, and I was scarred but not at all surprised.

I always thought she was lying that morning after. I felt it in my gut but I denied it because it hurt so bad to think that of her, and I wasn't going to be cynical. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. I almost agreed with her because it was a damn mistake. I should've never done that. I should've never even told her. But then again, wasn't it better to know what it was like, to have been at least remotely satisfied. Casey had made me very happy. My own eyes narrowed, and I didn't agree with her. "Mistakes don't happen more than once," I bit back viciously.

Casey stiffened because I did have a point there. Didn't matter, though. She'd refuse to acknowledge it like always. "Shows what you know," She scoffed, not even missing a beat. She didn't bat an eyelash either. Then she frowned at me and finally decided to acknowledge my request. "What do you want, Derek?" She snarled, sounding almost like a wild animal. Yet there was a lilt of curiosity in her voice that wanted to be satisfied.

This time I grinned mischievously. I figured I had the right. She didn't know it yet, but she was going to agree. She would disagree first, and, of course, be horribly offended. But in the end she would bend. "A last round for old times' sake," I requested casually, licking my lips and looking her over. I'd forgotten her enticing wardrobe choices this morning. Ha, what a pity. I actually thought that was mine. Casey actually full on gaped at me, as if surprised I had that sort of gall. She does know it's me, right? I mean, what else does she expect. She ought to expect crude and uncouth from me.

When Casey finally found her voice, she shook her head as I'd predicted. Took her long enough, didn't it? But she wouldn't always deny me. I was sure of that. "No. You used me, and now you don't want me anymore. And hell, I _never _wanted you," Casey rejoined comfortably. Not a single emotion flickered in her eyes. It made my skin crawl to think of her emotionless like that. That one really stung my pride though. She never wanted me. The truth finally comes out. But she was such a freaking hypocrite. SHE USED ME, and yet she stands there and accuses me of her own crime. Projector! And I did want her. I still loved her, for cripes' sake. All I ever did was love her.

And pressure her and make her uncomfortable and hit on her and maybe use a little more force than was necessary and make fun of her boyfriend and make her life as close to Hell as I could, but I cared about her. And I'd been there for her when no one else had. She owed me something. I stiffened reflexively and plastered a bitter smile unto my face. "Oh, Casey, but you did. Even if it was only the cheap, carnal pleasures of the flesh, you wanted me, all right," I contradicted her, pausing deliberately. My eyes were dark with need and want and craving, and that reflected in Casey. She looked a little scared, a little shaky. Probably because she knew I was right. She wasn't even able to make a snide comment.

I felt the familiar, genuine smirk tugging at my lips. I looked her over, and she looked fragile. Casey looked like she was about to snap. I stepped closer to her, knowing that even if she thought nothing of me, her body would always respond. And I could use that to betray her. "Now, what do you say, Princess?" I offered in a gruff, persuasive choice. If there was one thing I was fully confident of, it was my sexual prowess. For obvious reasons. Call me Casanova.

I smiled softly at her again, moving closer, putting my hand on her cheek. I would have her in the palms of my hands soon enough. My voice was low and guttural. "The sex was always the best part, and you know it." The back of my hand trailed across her cheek. "You'll probably never have anybody as good as me ever again, so you might as well enjoy it while you still can." I cocked an eyebrow enticingly. I smiled softly, looking down on her warmly. Then I licked my lips. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." I dragged my finger along her full bottom lip, inching even more forward so that she was intoxicated with my presence.

You know what they say about temptation... God, I'd forgotten how good she smelled, how good she tasted, and knowing that I could never do this again was the worst part of all. Her eyes fluttered, widening when she felt my thumb brush against her bottom lip. I knew she wanted me too; I could practically smell it. But then Casey abruptly turned her head to the side and tried to look all composed. Like her chest wasn't heaving and she wasn't imagining it and I hadn't left a trail of angry red bruises down her neck. "No..." She exhaled, unable to say anything more. Now who's the lightheaded one?

"Why not, Casey? After all, that's **all **I'm good for, isn't it?" I drawled bitterly, furious with her. It's the truth, though. That's what Casey thinks of me. Her eyes darkened in response, although whether in anger or arousal, I didn't know. Either way, she didn't even touch me. She averted her eyes, fixed her hair, and wisely took a full step backwards, away from me. She doesn't even trust herself around me, as well she should.

Casey's breaths were ragged. The sound of her breathing was all I could hear, that precious sound of her life. Then she did a most miraculous, strange, incredulous thing. Her eyes shot up to meet mine, her lips forming a thin line. "And if I don't agree to your little indecent proposal... what happens then?" She questioned urgently, eying me warily. I shot her a serious look that said I meant business.

"Trust me when I say you don't want to know. Just remember that I can make your life difficult, Casey, or I could make your life a living hell, Casey. Or I could stick around and refuse to let you go. Take your pick," I replied diffidently. So true. Let's see... It's have sex with me now or I won't dump you. Yeah, that really makes a lot of sense. She's really going to accept your offer, which is basically you blackmailing her for one last romp with her.

She nodded, frowning. I wasn't really going to do any of that, though. I might just make her life a little more miserable to compensate... "Details?" She requested, adding, "if I were to contemplate it." She was definitely considering it, I thought with a smile.

I kept the smile on my face and proceeded carefully. She'll be putty in my hands yet. "We've got a little less than three hours before anyone comes home. Spend those three hours with me in the bathroom, and I swear, I will be officially out of your life," I promised sincerely, stating out all the facts as they were. As much as I could be, at any rate. I gave her a suggestive look, implying how we'd pass all that time in the bathroom (not on the toilet). She frowned at me, a look of distaste coming over her face at the mention of the bathroom.

Casey shook her head, scowling at me. "Not worth it." Apparently that sort of thing's beneath her dignity. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. Speaking of which, I placed one of my hands on her thigh, sliding it up higher, underneath her skirt, up and up and up until... until my fingers latched into the elastic waistband of the cruel, opaque red tights she wore. My fingers slipped underneath the tights, edging their way further downward. Casey made no moves to try and stop me, but she gasped out breathlessly, "That's tantamount to _rape_, you know!"

Her voice was shrill and high enough to make me flinch. There was that R-word, that word I despised. I brushed my lips against her neck. "Not if you consent to it. I know you're not going to screw Sammy... at least for a while. So you might as well get all your aggressions out on me while I'm still available," I whispered. Besides, I'd always wanted to have angry bathroom sex with her, or rather, merely just hot hate sex. And I'd wanted it since the moment I laid eyes on her at the wedding, hence the crude remark.

For several moments, Casey appeared to contemplate this idea. Then she abruptly shook her head. "So what? Come and get it?! Is that it?" She jeered, motioning to herself. Her tone was sarcastic. I continued to stare at her in silence, making her uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting awkwardly. I decided then to play dirty, brushing my fingertips over her hipbones. I pressed a kiss to her neck, moving down, flicking my tongue over the marks I'd made this morning. I was determined to leave more. She would not forget me so easily. Casey sighed, tilting her neck and burying her fingers in my hair. "Okay," She breathed.

I stopped lavishing attention on her neck, bringing my head up to look at her carefully. Her eyes were closed, but they opened as soon as she registered the lack of pressure. She frowned at me, blinking. "Why'd you stop?" She murmured softly, pouting at me. "I'm _yielding _here." Man, that sounds dirty. Truthfully, I couldn't quite believe she'd said she was okay with it. I wanted to know that she was sure first. So I didn't feel like I was actually raping her. She stepped back to look at me, holding my face between her hands. Her gaze darted down to my lips. Then Casey looked me straight in the eyes. She didn't quite smile, but there was something decidedly mischievous about her lips. "I agree to your terms, Venturi." Then her hands abruptly dropped down from my face, and she pushed me towards the stairs. "Now, hurry up before I change my mind," She growled.

I smirked, pulling my hands out of her tights. I gestured towards the stairs, motioning towards her. "After you, McDonald!" I replied, grinning. Casey grabbed my hand and ran up the stairs, rolling her eyes at me. Apparently she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. She was in such haste to get in the bathroom that we scrambled in, practically running over each other. I was only running because I didn't want to waste a minute. I really wanted to prolong things because I wanted to enjoy these last few hours when she was still my girlfriend.

The minute we were both in the bathroom, I locked the door behind me. Casey flew at me, wrapping her legs around my waist, fisting her hands in my hair. She pressed me against the door, but I didn't intend to let her have all the control. I slipped out of my jacket, letting it pool on the floor, which I didn't usually do. Then I wrapped my arms around her, slowly unbuttoning her sweater. She shrugged out of her sweater, ripping off the camisole underneath it. Then I picked her up, turning her around, and pushing her against the wall.

I kissed her roughly, pushing the tights down her legs. Casey grabbed on to me like a lifeline, pulling me closer to her desperately. She leaned forward, wrapping an arm around my neck. Her quick fingers pushed my shirt up, fumbling with my jeans. I jerked down her underwear, pressing her hard into the wall. Her lipstick was honey-sticky across my face, on my cheeks, down my neck. Casey moaned. My hands went up her thighs. I slid my fingers inside, and it felt like coming home. Within a matter of minutes, I had her moaning my name. We were in too much of a hurry to even undress all the way. We rested there, leaning against the wall for a few minutes until we caught our breath.

She smiled at me.

Then I grabbed her again, stumbling over to the sink. I wanted her to remember it, and I wasn't gonna waste a single minute. I pressed her back into the sink, and Casey whined, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Derek, that _hurts_," She hissed, biting my lip. I winced, drawing back a little. Oh, I wanted it to hurt. I wanted it to burn.

I shrugged. "Maybe I want it that way, Casey." Casey's eyes hardened, and she pushed me off of her, looking at me like I was Satan personified. But there are far worse things I could do. The curve of her lower back was pressed into the basin of the sink. "I want you to remember." Casey asked me why she wasn't allowed to do the same thing. Frankly, I didn't care if she did or not. I was just so furious. "Shut up, Casey," I groaned, wrapping my arm around her neck and kissing her hard enough to make her forget. I bent her over backwards so that half of her was over the sink.

The sweat clinging to our skin wasn't even dry yet. My fingers slid across her back, supporting her. She was so tiny and thin sometimes that I could almost see her ribs. Actually, when she was all bent over, I could see her ribs. I ran my fingers over them slowly. Casey sighed, biting her lip. She exhaled hard, and gave me a pleading look. My self control kind of dissolved after that. This time she was shaking, and she pushed against me, pulling herself up. Her skin was inflamed. She spoke softly, "The shower, Derek." But there was no disguising the fact that her voice was a low command. I nodded.

She exhaled, relief showing all over her face. I kicked off my shoes, tugging off my socks. Next, I bent down and unzipped her boots, tossing them off to the side. Then I pulled off her tights, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall down. She pulled my shirt over my head, pulling down my pants and then my boxers. I ripped her underwear off, and then we both reached over to turn on the shower. Our hands brushed, and I tried to catch Casey's eye. She turned away and refused to look at me. Instead, she walked over to look at herself in the mirror.

My stare must've been burning right into her, but she didn't so much as turn around. Not even once. She merely fixed her hair coolly and peered at herself, frowning like she didn't like what she saw. She took a tissue and wiped off her smeared lipstick. Casey ran a hand through her hair, tousling it. Her hair was a mess of curls. I watched her make faces in the mirror while reaching into the shower to feel the heat of the water. It warmed up fast, I noticed. She was still staring at herself in the mirror, transfixed by her reflection. What charming vanity.

I walked up to Casey, grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her with me. I pulled the curtain aside, smirking. Well, come on in. The water's fine! Casey gaped at me in disbelief. I found myself put off. Why does she look at me like that with those innocent eyes when she knew all along that this was what was going to happen? Then, stepping over the edge of the tub, I motioned for Casey to join me, gently this time. I don't really get her reluctance. We did the same thing last weekend, on my birthday. Just not in the shower. She wanted it like that. What's changed since th... oh, right, Sam. Damn, I'd almost forgotten about him. For a long while Casey stayed there, unable to move.

What's her problem? We've done this three times today. Who's she kidding? I gave her a smoldering look before I reached over and picked her up, lifting her over the tub, setting her down next to me. She was heavy and staid like a statue. Too perfect, so unavailable. I bent down, pressed my lips against her shoulder, ran my fingers down her skin. Her skin felt cold and clammy. The water was warm, but not warm enough. She flinched as the water hit her skin. Her eyes were focused on the wall, and her whole body seemed to be ignoring my presence. Her indifference made me feel sick, and I wanted desperately to stop it. She was so... unresponsive.

I grabbed her hard by her upper arms, pinning her against the wall, so that the water fell on both of us. I pressed her into the wall bruisingly. Casey did not resist. I attacked her neck savagely, sucking and biting and flicking my tongue across the soft, white skin of her neck. Her pulse raced underneath my tongue, but she was frozen. I let my lips trail over her collarbone, down her chest, leaving my mark everywhere I possibly could, until my whole mouth was sore. But Casey didn't even look down. She was looking above me, an arm loosely draped around my neck. She flinched every time I made another mark. I made sure it hurt every time, too.

Her eyes were wide open, seeing everything but not really. It seemed like she was on a higher plain or something. Well, serves me right, I guess, no matter how much it pissed me off. I'd asked for her body. Not her mind, and not her heart. But she'd reacted before. I hadn't imagined that. I sighed, but it came out more like a hiss. My hands dropped to her hips, and I noticed I'd left bruises on her upper arms. They looked like angry red fingers. My grip on her hips was even firmer, stubbornly refusing to give up. Casey grimaced, but she opened her legs wider nonetheless. For a moment, I merely stared at her in surprise. Sometimes I wondered if I really did know Casey at all.

Then I moved closer to her, kissed her on the mouth again and again and again. So hard I knew it hurt. I wanted it to bleed, though. I was bleeding, at any rate, from when she'd bitten my lip earlier. My nails dug into her skin, and she wriggled a little, obviously uncomfortable. Still, she regarded me almost as an annoyance. I was just there again, right place, right time.

I'll spare you the purple prose of what happened next since I think it's rather obvious. She didn't fight me, but that was almost worse. Her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look at me. Her knees were trembling, but other than that, she didn't move once. She just leaned against the wall and sighed raggedly and let me have my way with her. I felt cheap, dirty, and guilty. And... I don't know if I can do this. Not if she's going to be like this. There was no satisfaction in it for me. No point.

I put my hand on her lower back, turning so that her back was now against the flat wall. I pulled the curtain closed behind me, feeling breathless. I was breathing, and I knew that, but it was like I wasn't getting any oxygen. She exhaled heavily and looked somewhat relieved when she realized my touch was gentle. I placed my other hand on her hip and leaned in, putting my head on her shoulder. My nose brushed against her neck, and I inhaled her. She smelled so good it should be illegal, off-limits, forbidden. Then I sighed dreamily, closing my eyes. I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her. "I love you, Casey. More than anything," I murmured. So much it hurts.

I knew I was going to act like I didn't, after this was all over. I would be worse than before, probably, if I could even face her or speak. I'll probably lash out like a hurt animal, but she deserves it. So I had to tell her because it was the last time I really could, and certainly the last time I'd want to. But I wasn't going to stop. I'm not a faucet like she is... I can't turn my feelings on and off. Not any time soon, at least, no matter how much I'm sure I'll wish I could.

My dry, cracked lips touched her shoulder. They tingled. "I might be slightly delirious because no way I would ever say this in my right mind... And if you ever mention this again, I'll deny it..." I trailed off, somewhat dazedly, not quite realizing what I was doing. Suddenly Casey turned to look at me. Her eyes looked almost warm and definitely curious. I met her gaze, revealing all to her. "I'll always love you, Casey," I breathed. You always remember your first, and, with the way this has turned out, she'll probably be the _only _girl I'll ever love.

"Derek..." She muttered, putting her hand on my cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something. But she didn't. I guess she couldn't. Instead, she merely leaned in and kissed me with all the passion that had been missing before. She felt alive again.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Or, in this case, bliss. For me, at any rate. But it was only temporary.

Around two hours later, we heard the door slam, signifying that our younger siblings were home. I helped Casey wash the rest of the shampoo out of her hair, and she practically ran out of the shower, drying off frantically. I stayed in the water, which had turned cold, staring at her. Fitting, I guess. I noticed the wide expanse of mottled skin. Her whole back looked inflamed, especially the lower parts, and I caught flashes of finger-shaped bruises across her hips and around her wrists and upper arms. Her lips were swollen, and her body was speckled by all manner of lip-sized love bites. I admired my work briefly, but looking at it too much made me feel sick.

Casey, on the other hand, was completely ignoring me. After all, she didn't owe me anything now. "Thanks, Derek! Now I'm as wrinkly as a prune!" She whined. Casey pulled on her underwear, awkwardly fastening her bra, then tugging on her skirt and the camisole. A few moments later, Casey picked up her sweater and buttoned it up all the way to the top, definitely feeling the need to cover up. She foolishly wasn't wearing a turtleneck. I let myself smirk at that, watching Casey stumble about, trying to zip up her boots. She looked like a crazy person. Then, as if that wasn't enough, Casey blew her hair dry in a rush (it was only half-dry), reapplying a fresh coat of make-up. She threw her tights into the laundry basket. Then she whirled around to shoot me a vicious look. "We keep this between us."

"Our own dirty little secret," I mumbled unhappily. Nevertheless, I nodded, miming zipping my lips. I grinned, noticing Casey's eyes drop down a little. She flushed prettily in embarrassment, and I bit my lip, thinking of what I'd be missing. I tried to remind myself that I wanted it this way. I looked her over appreciatively. "Come on, Casey... You aren't gonna seal the deal?" I teased, belying the actual distress I was feeling. Sue me for wanting to draw out a moment. Casey rolled her eyes at me, shooting me a dirty look.

Nevertheless... "With a kiss, right?" She quipped knowingly, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows me frighteningly well, I think. But Casey nodded anyways, a small smile on her face. Then she walked over to me and kissed me hard one last time. Then she patted me on the cheek and turned to leave. For my part, I slapped her ass and made her scowl at me. She left anyways, and then I was all alone with my thoughts and the ice cold water dripping down my back.

I leaned back into the water, pulling the shower curtain closed. I held my head in my hands, tormented by flashes of what had just happen. An image of how good she looked in my jacket stuck in my head. And there I was, all alone with my feelings. And I'd lost her. To _Sam. _I'd lost all that matters. I wouldn't go to the extent of saying something like Casey's the other half of my soul, and if I've lost her nothing else matters... but that's kind of how it feels. I leaned my head back against the wall, letting the cold water run down my body, trying to do anything but think about Casey. Unfortunately, that was all that I could seem to do.

The tears blended in with the water on my face until the only way I could tell the difference was that the tears were warmer. There's no going back now. And I let out a sigh, thinking that for as long as I live, I will never, ever forget Casey.

It's worse, too, because I live with her. So I have to watch her all the time, knowing I can never have her. And I'll have to hear Sam talking about her, and her dreamy ramblings about him. But I won't be able to say even a single word about it, or talk to anyone about how I'm feeling. I won't sink to Casey's level and seek a shrink. And there's me with no one and no outlet. Except hockey. Speaking of which, I'll think I'll get out of the shower and go practice for four or five hours at the rink, maybe. Anything so I don't have to be here and look at her. I'm just going to have to get used to Life Without Casey. I'll adapt, and I'll rise again.

I am still Derek Venturi, after all, and I'm not just gonna roll over and die because she broke my heart. Even if that's how it feels.

But it hurts.

- Loren ;

C'mon... Let's see what you think of that. ;)


	22. Guinevere

Okay, so this chapter totally sprung up randomly when I was not trying to write it. Yet I did. And I kind of hate it and some remarks in it. But I'm lazy, so it's not changing. Anyways, I wanted to get it out by Valentine's Day, so here it is. Um, yeah, I really think you're going to hate this chapter.

Warning: This chapter is not at all romantic. Not really. So it's like a twisted Valentine's Day chapter. But yes, in the fic, it is Valentine's Day. And yeah, since a lot of this chapter is Casey's thoughts and yeah... This chapter's pretty much a filler chapter because the next chapter's exciting. Derek's next couple of chapters are way more interesting than this one and Casey's next one, although, I suppose, that should be dramatic too... Can't spoil it too much, after all. ;) Casey's weird and all over the place in this chapter, but she's been crazier... rarely bitchier, but less crazy. Oh, she's controlling and power-hungry... or powerful, too, I guess. Derek's... he's... I dunno. It's just very clear that the dynamic of their relationship is changing a lot to something a whole lot worse and darker than it originally was. Next chapter Derek's going to be even meaner, so keep that in mine. I know he seems kind of lost in this chapter, but he will be back with a vengeance. Other than that, Casey pretty much fills in all the holes.

Oh, yeah, don't own Life with Derek, because it's on Disney and they obviously don't swear. Or drink. Or smoke. Or have sex. Or make allusions to dirty things like they do in half of this chapter. So, clearly, it's Life with Derek darkened up a little and fleshed out a bit more and realized, er, made more realistic. Like if artistic Goths attacked with charcoal and black colored pencils.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

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"You can't let Derek get in the way of your happiness."

* * *

It's Valentine's Day, and I should be happy, right? 

I'm dating the man I love (again), at top of my class, and my evil stepbrother is finally ignoring me. By all definitions, I should be on the top of the world... I've got everything I've always wanted.

Only I'm not. I haven't so much as kissed my perfect boyfriend on the mouth, and it's been about a week. Every time I try, some guy's face pops into my mind. I'll get this awful mental picture of how I found him in that bathroom, or Dean's face will flash in my head, or... Or I'll see Sam all over again, wiping his lips, all exposed and... With his hand up that slut's skirt. And I just freeze. I seriously can't do it, can't go there. Because he becomes dirty to me all over again, and I can't touch him.

I can barely even look at him half the time. And then, sometimes, when I'm with him, I'll see Derek's face.

And that's worse. Worse than imagining my boyfriend cavorting with every man in the province, worse than catching him in the act. That just makes me sick, and it hurts, but it doesn't make me feel genuinely awful inside. After all, I have no reason to feel awful about what Sam did. It's what I did that haunts me.

I'm not like them. I actually feel guilty. I don't want to, but I'm not wired like that, like Derek. After all the crap he's done to me and all those poor girls he's made fall in love with him, he had it coming. Karma's a bitch, right? So then I was a bitch, and I thought it was okay because he's such an ass. But it's not. Even Derek doesn't deserve treatment like that. At least, that's what my conscience keep telling me. I keep trying to tell myself that he deserves it, and, to some extent, he does. He wasn't exactly Mary Sunshine himself.

The weirdest thing was that I didn't break up with him to be with Sam. I didn't even want to be with Sam. I just said I still loved him, and I do, but love isn't everything... y'know? And I thought Derek would get that, but obviously he didn't. Derek said so many mean things, just one after the other, and then he completely blew me off when I wanted to talk things out. So I snapped and maybe I said some downright brutal things that weren't entirely true, but I just figured... if he was going to be such an asshole, then why bother?

After all, I don't love Derek anyways. Besides, if he thought I was the kind of girl who was just going to drop him like that, then he didn't know me at all. I wouldn't do that. So I thought, well, if that's what kind of girl you think I am, then I might as well end this. I had to end it like that. I couldn't let him keep the satisfaction of dumping me. Then he had the nerve to ask for conditions on top of it! You know, I was sure good at pretending I was okay with that.

I wasn't. Not at all. It made me feel cheap and used. So much of our relationship was that... sex. Yeah, it was a relationship. I'm not dumb enough to say it wasn't. I only told Derek that because I didn't want to admit to that. To having a relationship with my stepbrother. I guess I was still in denial, but I was ashamed. Ashamed of it, and worse still, of the way I'd acted while I was with him. Like some kind of sex fiend. Maybe that's why I haven't touched Sammy. Why I never touched Sam.

Derek was right, though... That really was the best part of our relationship, which is a sadder thought every time I think it. It makes me feel so shallow and skanky. I mean, Derek was really sweet, gentler and nicer than I could've ever thought. He treated me like a princess, and we'd never even argued up until he found out about Sam. I don't blame him for getting mad, but he totally overreacted. I wasn't going to...

You see, I felt like the world's biggest hypocrite, condemning my little sister for genuinely liking Edwin while I was in a relationship with Derek who I didn't even... Sex used to mean something to me. Back when I thought everything was fine in my relationship with Sam, back when I still believed in love. I wanted to make love in the honeymoon suite under soft candlelight with romantic music playing in the background. But everything changed when I saw Sam in that bathroom. The expression lost all meaning to me because it hadn't been intensely personal for Sam. He'd just done whoever was around, and how do you think that made me feel?

He as good as threw me into Derek's arms. I can't forgive him for that. This whole mess I'm in is his fault, and I can forgive him for everything except that, but I can't forget. That night... I was drunk, no, not in the conventional way, but drunk off the heartbreak and the pain and the tears. I couldn't think straight. I was torn between hurt and anger and the latter won out in the end. My mind left me, and suddenly there Derek was, being all caring and considerate and showing that at least he cared in the way Sam never seemed to. It made me wonder why I'd resisted him for so long.

He'd been right the entire time about Sam, I thought, so maybe he was right about this too. The chemistry, at least, was undeniable. It felt good, too. Good to know that someone gave a damn after all. Especially Derek, because I'd been so mean to him. It was like he was a changed man, almost. The fact that he pushed me away and fought it for so long just made me want him more. I guess that's how he felt, eh? Right place, wrong time. I knew Derek would give in, and then he did... so I was his. He was what I wanted in that moment. All I wanted to do was forget and be with someone who loved me. Unconditionally. And Derek was there.

After that, it all just got out of hand. Things moved way too fast, and now I know that I should never have told Derek yes. I wasn't any more ready for a relationship than he was. I wasn't over Sam. I'm still not over Sam, and I'm... not sure that being with him is what's best for me, but I love him, and he's just been so wonderful. Like a completely different person. Derek was... I just got with him because I didn't have the guts to tell him no. And I selfishly wanted to be with someone, I think. I couldn't just be alone. I'm not good on my own... but I know now just how really wrong that was.

You see, Derek was right. I used him. I didn't really mean to, but I did. I used him for sex and comfort and about a million other little things. I knew I couldn't reciprocate his feelings, but it felt good, and he helped keep my mind off Sam. And I thought I was getting better. I didn't really think it would go anywhere, but I thought Derek could help me get over Sam. Then, of course, Sam showed up on my doorstep, and I started thinking about him all over again. And suddenly I couldn't get distracted enough, so I tried to drown myself in Derek. That was wrong.

And I won't lie and say that half of the reason I did it wasn't revenge, because it flat out was. It was immensely satisfying. I could have sex with Derek, and then on top of that, every time I did, it was my own mini act of revenge. So I relished the feeling. Sam deserved it, after all. There was nothing more offensive to do than screw someone's best friend. And yeah, maybe I was waiting until something better came along. But Sam isn't better. Hell, I didn't even really choose Sam over Derek.

Derek chose for me. He burnt that bridge all on his own. I was just going along with what he said. Derek was so jealous he couldn't see straight. He didn't even ask me about it, not really. He didn't ask for details or what Sam exactly said to me. He didn't know that Sam's eyes had been filled with tears or that he'd put my favorite chocolates in my locker. He didn't know that Sam had literally begged me, almost on his knees. I stopped him out of remembrance of what else he'd done on his knees. Then Sam was giving me those huge puppy-dog eyes and pouting at me, and he was so pathetic and... whipped, even. Sam wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

The asshole jumped to conclusions. So he automatically assumed that I'd go back to Sam, and then I did. Half of it was just to spite Derek. To make good on those awful things he thought of me, to pay him back for his rude comments. To pay him back for what happened that day. I meant a lot of those other things I said about Derek. We did have an agreem... well, an arrangement of sorts. And it was a mistake... all that with him. I didn't mean it in the mean way it came out. I know how that sounds, but it was the honest truth.

But who am I kidding? Half the reason I said that was to hurt him. To make him finally leave me alone.

I don't know. I guess I wanted to make it easier for him.

And then he asked me for those conditions and damn near threatened me so I had no choice, really, but to have sex with him and pretend like it didn't bother me. The discomfort was like an itch underneath my skin. I could scratch my skin raw, but I could never reach it and relieve it. I wonder what he would've done if I'd said no. He could very well make my life hell if he wanted to. I wasn't willing to find out. I didn't want anyone to know, and I saw an out, so I took it.

Even if it was the shower, and that was just a tad bit too trashy for me. Hell, it beat break-up sex, right?

He wasn't gentle at all. Every sinew of his muscle was angry. Every flick of his tongue was sharp and rough. His grip was hard and fierce. His stare was unflinching and stubborn. He was firm and grounded like a tree. Oh, it was pleasurable, though, so memorable. I don't think I'll ever forget that, for sure. He had me screaming his name in ecstasy again and again. I cried out so many times that my voice was hoarse for days afterwards. My lips were bruised and broken from the intensity of his kiss and sore from where I'd nibbled on them. He'd left his mark everywhere, all over me, like he was playing target practice with his lips. It was one bruise after another, each in a place more uncomfortable and invasive than the other, and every single one hurt.

It was the most exquisite sort of pain. Maybe I deserved it. Then there was the way he thrust into me, harder and harder every time, in and out, again and again 'til I couldn't stand it anymore. I begged him to stop, said I'd had enough, but he pushed on and on and on until I thought I was going to die. But he wouldn't stop until he was through, until my muscles were clenching and spasming around him and all of me was begging for relief. And then he'd moan in satisfaction, growling my name in that sexy, throaty voice of his, and I practically collapsed at the sound, so spent. My skin was hot and slippery, just like his. My legs were weak and shaking, my knees knocking together. And I could scarcely stand, so I pressed my back against the cool tile and leaned against the wall for support with my hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer because I couldn't stand on my own.

I kept hoping he'd let up, even for a minute, but he waited the minimum amount of time, allowing the both of us to catch our breath, and soon enough it started up all over again. Waves of pain and pleasure alternated through me. My whole body hummed and tingled. I fought it as best as I could at first. I stayed still and frozen like a statue, so horribly unreactive that I thought it would repulse him. It did. I didn't move; I just gave in, giving him the bare minimum. I didn't want him to hurt me again, but the more still I was, the harder he pushed.

I felt violated. Derek sure wasn't pleased; he didn't look like he was even remotely enjoying himself. So he surprised me by stopping midway and leaning against my shoulder, his lips brushing my neck. I thought I was okay with the other stuff, but that, somehow, was too intimate. I wanted to pull away from him, to tear myself away and leave him there. He was too close. Strangely, he didn't even do anything. He just breathed me in, and then... then he whispered that he loved me, and he always would, no matter what he said. Then I broke, and I surrendered. Again and again we went at it ceaselessly, apparently never tiring, high on hormones or pheromones, even adrenaline like alcohol until we heard our siblings come in. I was bone dry then, and I felt raw and stretched out inside. And so sick and exhausted that it was all I could do to keep my head up and the food down in my stomach where it belonged.

But satisfied, I suppose.

As endings go, you could say it was a good one. Good enough. We sealed it with a pact to keep it a secret. Admittedly, I'm not sure about Derek... not even now. And sometimes Sam gives me these looks that make me wonder if he knows.

I still have most of the bruises from that afternoon. All up my neck and down my throat, peppering my sides, lining my collarbone from shoulder to shoulder, between the valley of my breasts, across my hips, one or two marring my upper thighs. So I slather the ones on my neck with cover-up or I wear turtlenecks, nothing that will reveal all the bruises. Almost my whole back is black and blue from where he slammed it against the wall. My lower back hurts even more from where he pressed it hard into the white porcelain of the sink. The skin's darker there. And then there are his handprints, the fierce impression of his fingers into my lily-white skin, standing out angrily, around my wrists, my upper arms, my waist, even speckling my thighs like leopard spots.

It hurts every day, reminding me of him- painfully, as I'm sure he intended. I think he wanted to make me feel a little of what I'm sure he must be feeling right now.

Not that you can tell.

A week and I can just barely walk straight. It hurts worse when I do, but I can't really limp around. Derek would notice, as would Sam, and I'm trying to play it stoic. I can't even imagine how smug he would be if he knew. If Sam knew, he would kill me. Or at least, Derek. It wouldn't work with that whole "I've never had sex with anyone" thing I have going. Besides, raises too many damn questions, and I can't risk Lizzie and Mom giving me another dirty look.

But I'm with Sam now, so I sound like a liar and a hypocrite and all that. I'm not, though. Derek pushed me into Sam's arms. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't hear any of it. He refused to listen to me or talk to me or even look at me unless it was absolutely necessary. I realize I hurt him, but he's been like that all week. Someday I will need to talk to him again. Derek made me feel guilty, and that did nothing to help distract me from those idle, foolish thoughts I'd had of Sam. It made them worse, actually. When I'd wake up in the middle of the night, having nightmares in which Derek featured prominently, I'd take to thinking about those happy times I'd had before rather than the misery I was currently facing.

Since I could barely remember the times when I hadn't lived in London with the Venturis, I took to thinking about Sam. He wasn't the best boyfriend admittedly, but he was the best one I've had here... Thinking about Max gives me hives, and Derek... well, I can't exactly think about him. I was kind of happy, halfway, half-assed, with Derek. It was nice, but I can't think about any of that at length without feeling sick to my stomach, and after those guilt-ridden nightmares, the last thing I want to do is think about the past few weeks or go crawling back to Derek. That's the influence he has over me now: the mere thought of him makes my stomach churn.

So I kept thinking about those good moments with Sam, those little tidbits, stringing them together one after the other. In the end, they formed a sort of perfect picture, and I'd almost glossed over the many bad moments, piecing the memories together. By Friday, all those nights of sleepless daydreaming had caught up with me. As had, I'm afraid, my insomnia. I wasn't thinking too clearly then either, but Sam was a perfect gentleman, and the bells in my head didn't go off like they should've... and there was no Derek around to tell me to stop. So when Sam asked me to get back together with him, I said yes without even thinking. All I knew was that I still loved him, and now he loved me. I thought that was enough, that it could work out.

I regret just jumping back into it like that, so fast, so soon after I was through with Derek. I didn't mean for it to happen, really. Then again, I didn't mean to have sex with Derek either. It seems like an insult to Derek to move on so fast. Then again, he is Derek Venturi, after all. I wish I'd thought about it more, I guess. I'm not entirely certain that I should've gotten back with Sam. I don't know if I can completely forgive him ever again, and I can't exactly trust him like I used to. Or at all, really. He's just so nice now, like the guy he was when we first started dating. I like that. I like how it feels like old times...

Like how it was before my world turned upside-down again for the third time.

The first time was when Daddy died. And the second was when Mom married George and uprooted my entire life. For a marriage that wouldn't even work, I'd added cynically at the time.

And the third time... ANOTHER DAMN VENTURI MALE.

I don't really think I need to say anything more about that, although Sam's almost as much to blame.

I miss that world. I'd just gotten used to it. Every time I get used to something, my world turns upside-down. But even I know that I can't go back. Too much has changed, and I can't go back in time. I think even Derek would agree.

Oh, wait, he doesn't talk!

I know it's my fault, too. That's the worst part. Because I remember that look on his face when I told him he was a mistake. It's stuck in my mind. It haunts me. For that one moment, the careful facade of the Derek everyone knew was gone, and the naked hurt flickered across his face. And then, just like that, it was gone. He didn't even look that surprised. He looked resigned, like he'd known it all along. I think he did, too; he knew it was going to happen, but he hoped he could change my mind. Maybe.

But then Derek was suddenly himself again. There was a brief pause, and he was back, guns slinging, with a retort for every nasty comment of mine. But I remember that look, those brief flashes of humanity. And I know he was hurt by my hand. It doesn't make me feel good. Or proud, even, that I brought The Great Derek Venturi to his knees. Not really. Dimly, a part of me is aware of that and feels somehow justified... but I know that was wrong.

After all, I've never been indifferent to him. I hated him for so long and so hard and so much, and that hatred was so all-consuming that it's taken over my life so many times, more than I can count. It's made me a crazy person who needs to see a counselor every Thursday, and it's cost me more than one boyfriend. That kind of intense emotion, obsession even, was bound to turn into something else. Something more than just hatred. I suppose a part of me will always hate him, but now I just pity him and what he's become. What I've made him.

Ironic, isn't it, that I'm the one with that kind of power over him now?

That day, that Derek talked about? It was the wedding, and I was so upset. I'd only met George himself once or twice, and I'd known that he had kids. I thought he had one. I'd met Marti one time. He'd brought her over once, asked me to babysit. I liked her. She was cute if not a little strange, so imaginative I was almost jealous of her. I'd never been like that as a kid.

I found out about Edwin much later. George mentioned him in a passing conversation when he took us all out to dinner to propose to my mother. He mentioned that Marti was with his ex-wife, and his son was at the Science Fair. He added that he thought his son would get along with Lizzie since they were the same age. Lizzie looked excited. She'd always wanted a brother.

Ha. And now she wants her stepbrother. Ah, the irony in life.

George didn't mention Derek once in my presence. Now that I think about it, I think he did it on purpose. Mom definitely knew, but she never mentioned Derek to me, not even once. Mom probably knew how I'd react, and George knew I wouldn't be happy in his house where his son ruled the roost. Or maybe they thought I'd be attracted to him. I can't vouch for their reasons for keeping Derek a secret from me.

They were finally forced to tell me about him when they brought our two families together. They went away for a weekend together at Niagara Falls and came back married. Naturally, I was thrilled. I sent Mom five desperate emails pleading her to divorce him. When she came back, I berated her for not thinking of her family, for doing that without asking us, without even letting us be present at her wedding. I don't suppose I can blame her for that, because I most definitely would've objected. It was just so soon. They'd only even been dating for some six months. They'd been engaged for about two weeks at the time, give or take.

When they came back home, we were all faced with a rather interesting situation. Mom promptly put the condo up for sale and said that we were going to move to London. I was almost excited until I realized that she meant Ontario instead of England. To live with George because he had a house that was big enough for all of us, and his whole life was there. She'd already found a job in London and shortly filed her two weeks' notice to work.

They had gotten married in late May, so Lizzie and I got to finish out the school year before moving. Neither of us were too happy about that. I had to leave my lovely Fletcher academy for a public school. But she finally told me about Derek much later, on the night before their ceremony. Since they'd already gotten married, they were throwing a little celebration party sort of thing for the family. It was very exclusive. Only immediate family and our parents' closest friends were allowed to attend. Naturally I'd planned almost the entire thing, not that I wanted to. I just couldn't let Mom down. I was her maid of honor.

She told me about Derek late that night when we were sitting on the couch, discussing some last-minute wedding preparations, after we'd finished a movie marathon of the sappiest, most sickeningly romantic movies with all the guys we'd ever found attractive. It was a few minutes after midnight, and we were watching Gone with the Wind. It was early on in the movie, right when she first sees Rhett. I was watching it out of the corner of my eye, half-looking at Mom when she dropped the bomb. "Oh, Casey, that reminds me! I forgot to tell you. You're sitting next to George's other son at dinner, so you're going to have to set an extra place at the table," My mother interjected suddenly, as if she'd just remembered. I have no idea what about that movie could have possibly reminded her of Derek Venturi.

Except, maybe, Clark Gable smirking at the camera. Naturally I turned to gape at my mother in disbelief, no longer paying any attention to the movie. "What other son? You mean he has another son, other than Edwin?" The questions bubbled out of me, one after the other. My mother merely nodded, and I continued to stare open-mouthed. "How long have you known? How long have you been keeping this from me?" I asked, my voice bordering on hysteria.

My mother shook her head and said that she'd merely forgotten to tell me. She kept forgetting that I didn't know. I pointed out irritably that she hadn't mentioned him even once, and then Mom claimed that she'd only met Derek a couple weeks ago when George told his kids that he was marrying her. He'd been busy or whatever with hockey and girls, which is why she hadn't met him. I was livid and didn't buy that excuse for a minute, but she cut me off before I could say a word.

She was smiling at me sweetly, softly. "He's about your age, Casey, and very charming. His name's Derek, by the way. He's so charismatic, confident, and friendly that it's _impossible_ to dislike him once you've met him... He's the life of the party, really. Oh, and he tells the funniest jokes! You know, he actually reminded me a lot of you. You two have a lot in common. He's a good kid. I think you'll like him, honey... as much as I do, I hope. I bet that once you get over the shock and give him a chance, you two will get along famously. You might even be good friends," Mom gushed, full of Derek's praises. I knew right then that I wouldn't. I could sense it. If she had so many good things to say about him, then I would definitely find something wrong with him.

It sounded so much like an attempt to prop Derek up that I suspected he had serious flaws she was forgetting to tell me about and that there would definitely be more than a little friction between us. I suppose it might've been different if I'd made a positive first impression on Derek. He might've actually liked me and vice-versa, and we might actually get along like brother and sister now... key word being might, and what's the use dwelling on the past, on what could've been? It obviously can't be reversed or undone. It's only the now that matters. Or maybe we were destined to disagree.

What kills me is my mother saying that two obviously dissimilar people with so many differences were alike, and, worse still, that Derek reminded her of me. How? She'd based all that on what, a few hours she'd spent with him on his own turf? It sounded to me like she was glossing him over, clearly trying too hard to make me like him. Don't get me wrong; I value my mother's opinion greatly, but it's in human nature to do the opposite of what someone tells you to do. My mom had issue me a challenge, and, as usual, I rose to meet it with ease. Disliking him was far from impossible, as my mother had said. It came as natural and instinctive as breathing to me.

When she told me all that, I felt sick. _Derek_, I thought. _Derek_. I hated that name. And I attached the blame to his name because I loved my mom, and I liked George... and I couldn't be mad at them. I couldn't blame them for everything, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I had to like George because he made Mom happy, and he was a good guy. But I didn't have to like my ugly stepbrother, of that I was certain, so the blame fell solely on his shoulders. That's a lot of weight to put on a high-schooler.

With his name on my lips, I glared at my mother and ran upstairs to the familiar safety of my room. I left her with some sarcastic comment and told her to finish the movie by herself because I could care less. That movie has forever been tainted for me because it never fails to remind me of Derek, and I can never watch it all the way through because it irritates me so. I tried and failed to fall asleep, so I went to the bathroom and threw up until the sick feeling went away, and there was no junk food left in my stomach to vomit up. I felt so terrible that all I could do was peel myself off the cool tile floor, clean up a bit, flush the toilet, gargle, and haul my weary ass to bed for a few hours. I went to bed still angry at her and George.

Nevertheless, I tried to forget about him and told myself to do as my mother had said and give him a chance. By seven that morning, I was determined to make myself like him, to make him like me. It would be nice to go to his strange new school with a friend to show me around and help me out.

Then, of course, I actually met Derek. Everything changed then. My whole life changed then, and it's all his miserable fault.

I was in this side room at the church where they were holding the ceremony since I'd insisted on a proper wedding for my mother, and I was getting out some wedding rage. It was only natural to be frustrated. So I was screaming and on the couch thrashing wildly, attacking throw pillows and burying my face in said couch when Derek came in. I'm sure he saw halfway up my skirt then, with the way he was smirking like he knew exactly what I looked like underneath that reddish-pink dress. "I have to say... that outfit would look great in a crumpled heap next to my bed," He said smoothly, forcing me to look up at him. I smoothed my dress nervously. He might as well have said, "Hi, I'm a tawdry slut looking for a good time."

Derek was wearing a black suit with a sky blue shirt underneath. The top two buttons were undone, and his hair was gelled up. In short, he looked good. I'm not too big to admit that I was somewhat attracted to him. I made a face at him, not appreciating his rather vulgar sexual innuendos. Besides, we were in a church. Didn't he have any class? He frowned as if he remembered something, popping his collar. I rolled my eyes, trying not to think about how good he looked. "Screw me if I'm wrong, but haven't we met before?" He quipped slowly, eying me curiously. He was blatantly checking me out, and I didn't like the feeling of his eyes running all over me unchecked. I shook my head defiantly and rose from the couch, adjusting my dress, feeling somewhat flustered.

He shrugged coolly, moving closer to me. I backed up further and further, trying to get away from him. "I don't know you, and you don't know me, but who's to say it's wrong if we sleep together?" Derek replied smoothly. Other than me, you mean? I am not that kind of girl. My jaw dropped, leaving my mouth wide open. Derek grinned a little, moving still closer. "You know, that's my favorite facial expression. You should really keep it up," He commented brightly, leaning towards me conspiratorially. My eyes widened in disbelief. No one had ever propositioned me like that.

But I quickly sobered up, shaking my head no. Derek nodded dimly, pursing his lips. "That's right... You don't know me, and I don't know you. And of course you're not the type to screw a stranger. I guess I've got to remedy that," He remarked in a lower voice, practically to himself. He moved closer and my back hit the wall, falling into the niche between the bookcase and the fireplace. Then Derek smirked at me for the very first time, quite pleased with himself.. That smug grin made my blood boil, but what he said next was even worse. "The name's Derek... That's so you know what to scream," He murmured, leaning forward. I could feel his breath on my face, and it repulsed me.

However, when I heard his name, it made the repulsion grow even stronger, forming into a knot in my stomach. My stepbrother was hitting on me! Since I couldn't very well escape, I reached up above my head for the vase that had been sitting there and threw the crockery at Derek's head. He simultaneously took a step back and ducked. The vase brushed his hair, grazing the side of his head before it crashed into the ground. He stared at me, looking somewhat impressed, surprise written all over his face. "You're my stepbrother, imbecile!"

That's how it all started.

I suppose I should say how Derek is now because, of course, everyone's all so fixated upon him. Everyone's been watching him lately. The fight with Sam, then his quietness as of late, and the concussion. Everyone's been dropping over, practically dripping with concern, giving him homemade cookies and cakes and casseroles and potroasts, even balloons and flowers and all manner of stuffed animals... enough to make you think the boy was an invalid! Of course, Derek's never home, so these things just clutter up the house. He does gobble down the food, though. Mom leaves most of it in his room unless it has to be refrigerated.

He's starving when he comes back from the rink, so he'll attack just about anything. I've never seen him so hungry, not even after we would have s... Not even then. That's all he does nowadays: go to the rink for hours and practice, do some of his homework, eat, and sleep.

Sam and Derek are speaking again, by the way. Derek made some excuse about being protective of his sister, and Sam bought it. Sam finally walked up to Derek today and asked him what was wrong. "Girlfriend dumped you?" He'd quipped in that way that he only thinks is witty. Sam's not funny at all. I was walking down the hallway at the time, and I went all cold and still, watching the scene, terribly afraid he was going to tell Sam everything.

Anger radiated from his whole body, but Sam didn't seem to notice. I stopped dead in the hallway, and Derek caught my eye for a minute. He sensed the fear coming off of me and seemed to relish it for a moment before breaking my gaze and turning abruptly to Sam. For a moment I felt panicked and was barely able to keep myself from rushing at him and making him stop. But then Derek spoke, and all my fears were assuaged... for the moment. "No," He replied. "I dumped her," He said savagely, and then he turned around coolly and headed off to class as if nothing had happened. Didn't even manage a passing glare.

I was relieved but not unscathed. Derek could destroy me at will, but he was keeping his promise. It hurt a bit, to hear him say it like that. No matter how true it was.

I need to stop thinking, though. I have a date with Sam tonight. It's our one week anniversary, and I can't be having those kinds of thoughts. After all, I love Sam, I do. Besides, I need to get ready, and I can't afford to be thinking of D... That. Any of it. I washed the last of the shampoo out of my hair and stepped out of the shower. Sam was coming in an hour, and he hadn't been late for any dates so far. I hurried to dry off, dressing quickly and combing and blow-drying my hair, which I then curled into ringlets. I applied my make-up with precision and efficiency, and, moments later, I breezed out the door. Sam's going to be here any minute!

Yes, I opened the door and ran right into Derek. It hurt and knocked a lot of the wind out of me. Didn't make my bruises feel too great either. I rubbed my chest, frowning at him. He really had been working out a lot lately. "Watch it, Casey," Derek said in a monotone. He couldn't even manage a Klutzilla? I found myself annoyingly concerned with his strange behavior.

I scowled at him. "Why aren't you at the rink? Shouldn't you be practicing some more for the hockey you won't be playing for weeks?" I muttered irritably. Derek's face and eyes darkened. He looked murderous, but I didn't care. He stiffened a little bit but did not move. In fact, he blocked me from passing him!

My eyes narrowed. Just what game was he playing? What was Derek up to? Was he trying to corner me again? My frown deepened and Derek explained in a low baritone that was hoarse from disuse. "Coach set me up with a coaching gig teaching the little snappers how to play. I already did my four hours at the rink. The only reason I'm back here is because I need to shower first. Wouldn't want to scare the little barnacles away," He elucidated quite clearly in a ridiculously dull voice. He managed to look convincingly bored, but I knew better.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, but Derek, I thought the ladies loved your natural musk," I retorted sarcastically. "It'd be the first time you actually bothered to shower in a while." Derek's eyes flashed warningly. He bit down on his lip as if trying to suppress sarcastic comments. I knew exactly what he would've said too. He would've said that his natural musk sure didn't bother me and then make some quip about how the last time he took a shower was, well... you know. Or something about it. But we had a strict gag order, so Derek swallowed the words. His eyes took on a cast of bitterness and, for a moment, he stared at me in silence until he'd composed himself long enough to speak and not worry that he'd say something inappropriate.

"Okay, you caught me," Derek confessed dryly, raising up his hands in a surrendering gesture. I graced him with the barest hints of a smile. "I came home just for you, Princess Casey. Since I am but your humble servant, fair maiden, I came to ready you for your joust with Sir Sam. In my opinion, you are far too made up for someone so unworthy, but never mind that. How mayst I aide thee, my fair lady?" Derek proclaimed dramatically, mocking me. Some Ivanhoe he is... I'm sure Derek would have some choice remarks about that one. Psh, he wouldn't know chivalry if it paraded around him naked. I scrunched up my nose and scowled at him. Derek rolled his eyes this time. "I would most certainly never miss the Ice Queen leaving on a rendezvous with one of her equals," Derek deadpanned. He paused in contemplation. "Although, if he's your equal, then what does that say about you?"

I stiffened, surprised at the sudden turn of events. I moved to brush past Derek, but apparently he wasn't done. This part of his break-up complex hadn't yet manifested. "Does it say that you also give strange boys head in bathrooms during parties?" Derek asked, dead serious. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he had the audacity to say that. Besides, that's just... insanitary! And I haven't even kissed Sam! Where does he get off suggesting that I'm a slut?!

Other than, of course, the obvious... coupled with his vision of how we broke up, since he thinks I left him for Sam.

But I'm no slut!

After all, I've only slept with him. Even if I lied, and he thinks differently...

"I am not a slut, and I do not enjoy that... Nor do I do that, not that that's _any _of your business anymore. My relationship with Sam is none of your business anyways, so I'd prefer it if you'd just stay out!" I shrieked defensively. Derek grinned mirthlessly. I knew even as I said it that there was a fat chance of that happening, but I said it anyways.

Derek shook his head wryly. "Obviously I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that," He quipped amusedly. He frowned mockingly, and he seemed suddenly like the Derek I knew. "I guess that's just another thing you never gave me, isn't it?" He retorted with a heavy sigh. I glowered at him, reaching my hands up towards his neck. I wanted to strangle him all over again until he actually turned blue, but my hands never made contact. He shrugged coolly, frowning and pursing his lips. "And, Casey, you are what you sleep with. I'm a whore, and Sam's a cheap, trashy, tasteless whore. That makes you a whore too, don't you see?" Derek pointed out cruelly. I couldn't just take it anymore, not without violence... even if he was injured.

I slapped him across the face. I was not a whore. He had no right to call me that when I gave him my virginity. And I hadn't even slept with Sam! Or kissed him since! So in my anger, I said something very stupid. "You're just saying that because it eats at you, picturing me having sex with him, his kisses on my lips, his hands removing my clothes, his skin on mine, him sliding inside me, his name being the one I scream instead of yours! You're sick with jealousy, Derek, and you know that Sam will give me more pleasure than you ever did. So suck on that, Derek!" I countered even more icily.

I had no intentions of even sleeping with Sam... And I wasn't sure I could ever get over or forget what he did to me. The mere thought of having sex with Sam seemed unsafe, unsavory, unsanitary, and absolutely disgusting. Nevertheless, I knew that was exactly what Derek was picturing, and I knew that bringing it up would hurt him.

"God, could you possibly be any **more **self-centered?!" Derek rejoined sourly. He shook his head in disgusted disbelief. He was one to talk, accusing me of being self-centered! Besides, I was right. Derek was jealous and his denial only reinforced it. We stopped things because he was jealous and he didn't trust me. "This whole thing isn't about _you_, Casey, and now you're just being delusional," Derek continued irritably. I grinned smugly. He was just pissed because I was right, and we both knew it.

I rolled my eyes at him proudly. "Ha, funny... But you're going to have to do a lot better to convince me. Even you're not _that _good of a liar, Derek," I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes. I finally brushed past him and sucked in a breath. It was the first time we'd touched since... I damn near jumped away from him as if burned, and Derek merely stood there in silence, looking thoughtful. I snickered again, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "God, Derek, could you be any more _obvious_?" I drawled mockingly, quickly pulling away so I managed to avoid Derek's iron grip. Murder was etched into his features, but I was already down the stairs and skipping into Sam's arms by the time Derek made it to the foot of the stairs.

Sam tried to kiss me on the mouth, but I turned my head at the last second to look up at Derek. He looked disgusted yet again and was turning around, walking back down the hall when I looked. Sam, however, pulled back and saw my stepbrother retreating. Like a fool, he called out for Derek excitedly. Derek turned around slowly, erasing the scowl from his face into a blank expression. He walked down the stairs silently and unwillingly, but Sam didn't notice. "Hey, D-man, any plans for V-Day?" Sam asked exuberantly. I rolled my eyes.

Silly boy. Derek was silent for a moment, so I took it upon myself to reply. I turned to Sam, clutching his arm. I didn't want to prolong things. "Yes, he does. He plans to live up to V.D. Day by attempting to contract every S.T.D. available through frequent exposure to his whorish girlfriends," I answered spitefully. Derek shot me a look that reminded me full well that over a week ago, I'd been a girlfriend. I tried to overlook that fact.

Sam frowned at me gently, placing his hand on my arm. He cast a glance over at Derek, who looked apathetic. Logically that must've surprised him, since Derek would normally retort back with something even nastier... but now it just looked like Derek didn't care, period. None of that oh-so fashionable aloofness anymore. For a moment, Sam looked confused. Then he turned back to me, still frowning. "Casey... That wasn't very nice." I shot him a reproachful look.

After all, I'd taken his ass back, hadn't I? So he was really one to talk to me about nice, what with cheating on me and punching his best friend. The look pretty much silenced Sam. "Oh, I'm sorry... Oh, wait, Sam, I forgot something... when was Derek ever nice to me?" I replied sarcastically. I crossed my arms over my chest irately. Derek was unintentionally ruining my date, and I knew he HAD to be enjoying it!

Sam's frown remained, however, and he nervously cleared his throat. I eyed him warily, ready to cut him off. "Casey... You've never..." Sam trailed off, not knowing what to say next. I never... _what, _Sam? Never stood up to Derek. Never insulted him like he got me? Never controlled him for once?

More like never sunk down to his level...

He swallowed. But you know it's not the first time. I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to come out and say it. "You've never said anything like that before... I-I think you crossed a line," Sam stammered. What next? Is he going to ask me to apologize? Maybe I did, but so did Derek. All of this is just one giant reaction to him! My whole damn life practically! He peered at Derek worriedly. "Maybe you should apologize," He suggested in a helpful tone.

I plastered on a fake smile and tried to restrain myself. "Sam, if you only knew everything Derek has said and done to me..." I muttered almost to myself. Derek paled a bit, and Sam continued to look curious. My eyes narrowed and I turned to Sam, posing as the picture of feminine devotion. But that was just an act. After all, all the strong women of history batted their eyelashes and sweet-talked the men to get where they were. If I want to be like them, I have to hide my intentions behind a facade of sugar. Having power over someone outside of my immediate family, especially a boy, was an entirely new thing for me. I wasn't going to let myself be controlled by one boy's actions. Not again.

I'd made that mistake time and time again... making myself over into some stranger I scarcely recognized and didn't respect to make myself good enough, pretty enough, popular enough for Max. But I was never going to be Amy. Not even if I became a cheerleader and caked all that make-up on my face and got highlights and wore revealing clothes and gushed over him like some sap and pretended to be interested in football and forgot all about everything I loved. And I made excuses for Sam when he treated me like crap, and I overlooked his flaws and kept lying to myself when he was obviously cheating on me. I stubbornly refused to put the pieces together. And Derek, well, that's the worst of them all.

I obsessed over him. Literal possessive obsession. And I don't even love him. Most of the time I loathe him! And I basically let him run my life. He riled me up all the time and made me lose my cool... sometimes even my mind. And when... I was like his little sex bunny or whatever, making him meals out of gratitude, and thanking him all the time. And pretending, always pretending. No more. Casey's completely in charge now.

I batted my eyelashes sweetly. "What, you want me to apologize to him?" I questioned innocently, giving him the impression that I wouldn't mind. Sam nodded, and I pivoted to face Derek gracefully. "Derek, I am _truly_ sorry for what I said. I'd forgotten that you already have every S.T.D. known to man. How careless of me," I drawled mockingly. I didn't bother to look at Sam's face. Derek, however, merely rolled his eyes. I turned my head to Sam, knowing full well that Derek could hear me. "It's a wonder they still want to touch him," I added, proceeding quickly as I knew Derek had a retort for that. "Although... He is having a bit of a dry streak lately..."

Derek scoffed softly. It was true, though. I haven't seen him with a girl in weeks. And no one else has either. Some people even think he made up the girlfriend... or they would've, if Derek hadn't been so taciturn and quasi-mopey lately. And horribly, horribly, horribly apathetic. Sam gave me a look, chastising me. He looked like he was seriously I didn't care, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I'd said many more offensive things to Derek lately, ones a hell of a lot worse than that. "Casey, c'mon... Would it kill you to be civil to him for two minutes? He broke up with his girlfriend recently... And it is Valentine's Day, after all. It must be awful not to have someone to love. He's not as lucky as we are. Cut him a little slack," Sam entreated empathetically, grabbing my hand. I smiled against my will. His hand was nice and warm and not the one he'd stuck up Trashy Cassy's skirt. Still grinning, I pressed a kiss to the soft skin of the back of his hand.

He failed to point out that Derek had scarcely said a word.

At that, Derek's eyes flashed in rage. The concept of Sam pitying him had apparently hurt his pride. Well, it was either that or the irony in Sam's words, since he was the cause of Derek's misery. He seemed to bristle at Sam's assumption that he was fragile or wounded. Anyway, Derek's whole slumped body seemed to straighten and tighten like a guitar string as he stretched and rose to his full height. You could definitely tell he'd been working out. I feigned looking chagrined and a bit embarrassed. I shrugged helplessly, but I could tell that Derek didn't buy one word of it.

He addressed Sam plainly, "Sammy, I need to have a little chat with your girlfriend. Mind if I borrow her for a few seconds? We really need to get some things straight." His tone was urgent and demanding, a command that was to be obeyed. If Sam really knew, he wouldn't loan me out... Sam nodded, lightly pushing me towards Derek. I wanted to glower at him, but I didn't because he was my boyfriend and I loved him. He looked somewhat puzzled. Of course, Derek couldn't have it out with me in front of Sam. He stared at Sam, hoping Sam would get the message, and finally had to clarify, "_Alone._" Sam nodded understandingly and said he'd wait outside.

If it had been a little earlier, I might've been scared of Derek, but as of now, I was only frightened of his clearly superior physical prowess. However, he was still recovering from his concussion, so I knew I had that advantage. Anyway, as soon as the door closed, Derek advanced towards me. He didn't pin me against it like I thought he would. He kept his distance; there was approximately a foot in between us. His eyes glinted furiously. "You can make all the dumb little snide comments about how much of a whore I am that you want. I don't care, and they suck anyways. It's not like it hurts. I would not, however, recommend taunting me or forcing me to witness you and Sammy displaying affection," Derek grumbled irritably. He sounded so unaffected that I was surprised.

Or what? What are you going to do to me, Derek? Blackmail me? Well, bring it on. I can blackmail you right back, and worse, because who will they believe: the liar or goody-two-shoes Casey? Mom and George might even ship him off to military school once and for all. I rolled my eyes. "I can do whatever I want with whoever I want whenever I want. Sound familiar, Derek?" I quipped with a grin. Derek scowled, remembering that he'd said that once. It was his justification for sleeping with everything female. "And I'm not going to let you blackmail me or control me. My relationship with Sam is not your business. Period, end of story," I declared almost exasperatedly.

"It is, and it always has been! When he's my "friend" and you're my stepsister... it is! Like it or not, Casey, I'm in the middle of your relationship for good," Derek growled roughly, taking another menacing step towards me. He had a point there. He would always be standing between Sam and me, even if I didn't want to think about it. It sounded so horribly fixed and fatalistic. But still, he's not me.

I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to accept his "truth". "No." Derek shook his head right back at me, and that made me very angry. I just wanted him to leave me alone. Why can't any of my exes leave me alone?! My eyes narrowed in irritation. "Just shut up, Derek," I snapped. He started to talk again, but I cut him off, feeling more than a bit furious. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. You're nothing more than a stupid, worthless puckhead!" I snarled viciously. One who's ruining my date with Sam, at that! For once, Derek actually looked affected by that remark, maybe even a little hurt.

But it was just a moment and then he was as angry as I was. His lips formed a firm line for a long moment, turning white from the pressure. Then Derek finally replied, breaking the strange spell that had taken ahold of him. "Better that than a lying, heartless bitch who uses people!" Derek shot back. His voice was just a little too loud. The words stung a bit because a part of me knew he was right, and I felt guilty. He deserved it, but I felt guilty. And I didn't want to feel guilty over Derek because that led to me thinking other things of Derek. I didn't even want to think about Derek.

So this time I took a step closer, so that I could practically whisper in his ear. "You make my skin crawl," I spat disgustedly, giving him a dismissive glance. Then I turned around and walked away, beginning to open the door. That is, I was... until Derek grabbed my arm hard and whirled me around to face him abruptly.

His face was red. His eyes were dark and hard. His lips curled into an unpleasant, unbecoming smirk. "And you make mine itch," He hissed, so close that I felt his breath hot on my face. I squirmed in his grip, but he wouldn't let go just yet. Well, what the hell did that mean? On second thought, maybe I don't want to know. Derek brought his face even closer to mine, making me feel uncomfortable. "Have fun with Sam, Slutzilla. I'm sure you can show him a good time," Derek sneered. His eyes glittered maliciously. "Especially if you suck." My jaw dropped. I can't believe him. Derek smirked. "Yes, that's just right, Casey! That is the exact expression. Sammy will love his present, I'm sure," Derek continued meanly, making me close my mouth in embarrassment.

My cheeks were probably as red as his by that point. But that, of course, was not enough for Derek. "Careful, though," Derek taunted, "You might want to keep an eye on him so he doesn't run off to some other man when you're not enough for him." I bristled at the accusation, hating that it was full well possible. He'd hit a sore spot. Who says I'm not enough, though. Oh, but Sam wouldn't run off to some man under me this time. I refuse to put up with that, and I will ferret it out of him if he does and dump him flat. "Or maybe, I guess, your tongue... Just to keep him satisfied and all," Derek suggested virulently. My eyes widened again. What Derek said next hurt worst of all. "Unless, of course, you're gonna give it up just as easily to him as you did to me."

Next thing I knew, I was slapping him as hard as I could across the face. That had been uncalled for. "I'm not just going to sit here and let you devalue me anymore, Derek!" I asserted stubbornly. "I am worth more than that, and I am so far out of your league that you don't even stand a chance in your dreams. Being with you was a mistake, and I regret it. Sam will always mean more to me than you ever did, so you might as well just give up now," I finished nastily, shaking him off and shoving him away from me. The look on Derek's face spoke of devastation, and I suddenly felt like Kali. It was a powerful feeling, at least. He looked crushed.

I pushed open the door, turning my back on him. I smiled at Sam, lacing his fingers in mine warmly. Derek slammed the door behind me, dashing up the stairs, I'm sure. Sam asked me about it, but I merely smiled obliquely and gave him some dumb answer. He accepted it without doubt. We got in the car.

Suddenly it all kind of hit me, what I just did, how absolutely brutal I was, and I didn't feel much like going out. The date was already ruined, and my belief in love was practically eroding before my eyes. I couldn't have a good time with Sam now. But I was going to try my damnedest to do it, so I put a smile on my face and made light conversation, although my mind was elsewhere.

I was still fuming from the awful things he'd said, and I silently cursed Derek for ruining yet another thing for me. He always does that and now...

Derek had soured the whole taste of Valentine's Day for me. Maybe forever.

- Loren ;)

Reviews are appreciated, dears, but long reviews are triply appreciated. ;) Hopefully after all that chapter you'll have something to say, even if it's that it is awful. And it is. The last half. I like the thoughts bit... But eh, the Derek confrontation was a tad contrived... Anyways, tell me what you think. Thanks so much!


	23. Insensitive

BIG WARNING! No, there is not a sex scene. Lol. This chapter contains numerous mature sexual innuendo. And Derek and Casey are downright nasty to each other. Here's where it gets a heap of dark hella fast. Just warnin' ya. This chapter is also probably freakishly long. Deal with it. Lol, that's the end of the message.

Oh, and a shout-out to Lady Azura for being the best ever. Seriously, check out her fics. Seriously, if you like Lizzie and Edwin, her profile is totally the place to go.

To **Kate**,who asked how Casey is not pregnant, which is a very valid question... Firstly, just because I never mentioned that it was protected or used the word condom does not necessarily mean that it was not... at least at times. Aside from that, consider how low the odds are of having a child are anyways. Depending on the woman, she can get pregnant one to two days in a month, sometimes fewer and sometimes more... Well, actually, I don't know about more. But generally it's one to two days a month, usually not for very long, like a few hours or so and there are peak times and so on, so I think it's a wonder anyone even gets pregnant. And then there are people with wonky ovaries and irregular cycles to consider. And that's assuming she's fertile, and Derek's fertile. Aside from that, well, who knows. Maybe Casey can't even get pregnant. Maybe her body physically prevents her from it, y'know? In fact, Casey and Derek were only together for about 3-ish weeks, not even really a whole month, right? And for a good while they didn't even have sex. And she could always be on the Pill. You know (wink)... for her skin. Sorry. Reminds me of the time my Psych teacher assumed every girl in our class was on the Pill. Not true. So not true. But serious kudos to you. You have anticipated something, and for that I am very proud.

I'm really sick of all those fics where they have sex all the time and use a condom or whatever, like that excuses the obsession or whatever. And there's no consequences. There are consequences. Always. And not just babies. STDs. And emotional consequences too, of course. This fic showcases some of those. Now, whether or not any of the other consequences pop up is a secret, but it does not mean that they are ignored if they do not show up. Casey worries over such things, and in this chapter alone, Derek himself mentions STDs four times.

I've been churning this chapter out like a mess. Four pages at a time! Crazy! And yeah, it does start out small and isn't that heavy on the emotional crap 'cause Derek tries not to be... plus you get to see all his delicious plotting. That being said, we also get snarky goodness, a little hot scene, Derek returning to all his pre-Casey goodness and vices, the battle for dominance, and, because, really, no one's reading this, some fun with a tranny and Derek being a manhoe again! The argument is seriously 11 PAGES LONG! CRAZY! I'm totally channelling Cruel Intentions here, by the way... Oh, and if anyone can think of something good for Casey to level at Derek that hasn't been mentioned yet, I'm all ears. Really, I work hard for these insults, so appreciate them.

As I was saying... The timeline, I apologize, is kind-of flawed. 'Cause really, it looks more like D and C broke up the last week/few days of January. So they were together for almost a month, but for like, the first two weeks, nothing much happened after she slept with him, then was his birthday and all that for the other two-ish. And then assume, I guess, that it took Casey 2-3 weeks to get to the present point of her relationship with Sam. I apologize for that, but I cannot really fix it.

And wow, this chapter's long. 22 pages. Oy.

* * *

"Don't be sorry."

* * *

"Der-EK!" Ah, her screams are music to my ears. Of course, it's not half as good as before, when she was screaming it in an entirely different tone and cadence... but I'm not going to think of that now. I don't want to. I'll think about it tomorrow. Or never. I shook my head to free it of the unconstructive thought and tried to focus on the fact that I'd pissed her off again. I could feel her fury.

You see, I've played so many pranks on her that it was really hard for me to think of something big to top it all. I need something cruel. After all, I _am _just getting back into the game. So I short-sheeted her bed a couple days ago, and I put maple syrup in her shampoo, and I spat in her sandwich when she wasn't looking. Hmm, there was something else, too. Oh, and I've been using up all the hot water in the shower. Because I'm friggin' sick of having to take cold showers. I shredded her homework and gave Marti all of her smelly junk to use for "portions." That way her smell doesn't haunt me.

I would've stolen all of her clothes, but then she'd probably wind up wearing mine again... though, seriously, the girl has a mother and two sisters, so why did she pick MY clothes? If she and Nora can share bras, then, come on, can't they share clothes? Or Liz... but anyways, I digress- and I'm not going to do pranks that give me that immature, kid-with-a-crush kind of happiness. I prefer vengeance served cold, myself. She was in for a huge heaping of it. I was willing to try anything and everything I could think of.

Nothing really big yet. I'm trying to get back my stride, after all. Not that I ever lost it or anything. Today, however, I capped off my day by waking up extra early to pour red dye all over her. It was syrupy and heavy, and, above all, sticky. The dye washed off her skin after a lot of scrubbing, but bits of it lingered in her hair. Sure, that was enough to make her shout, but she wasn't really, really, really pissed off. After all, we were going to get a new mattress anyways. I made sure that it soaked right on through, though. When she went into the shower, I snuck into her room and doused her bed with lighter fluid spelling out SLUT. Then, obviously, I lit each letter on fire carefully so as to not burn myself... And that's why Casey's shouting.

Doesn't even matter how much trouble I'll get in, and now her room's going to smell, and her skin's already raw... Plus, she'll have to sleep on the couch until she can get a new mattress, and, oh, the list goes on. Just hearing her say it was more than enough for me, so I turned on my heel and was out there before she could even find me. I drove off to school without her, effectively stranding her at home.

That being done, I had plenty of time to spare, so I set out to prank her locker. I taped pictures of carefully-cut-out penises and acts of hardcore gay porn to every surface within it. I had Frank do it because he owes me a favor. Like I'd actually soil my own hands by finding the most graphic, large, and disgusting images I could find? I'm going to cash in all those favors I've been owed, y'know, from my Nice Period. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Hell, I chew up those kinda guys for breakfast! Then I jerry-rigged this condom filled with a mixture of bad mayonnaise and coconut conditioner to explode in her face once she opened her locker. I am a dedicated man, you know. Revenge is my life.

As you can see, I was extremely early for school, so, after setting all that up, I closed her locker and began to mill among my peers. I then proceeded to think of every nasty rumor I'd ever heard and decided to spread a new one every week. This week's rumor, I decided, was particularly damning. She'd really pissed me off yesterday when she rubbed the Sam thing in my face again. I walked in on him kissing her neck and half on top of her. His shirt was lying on the floor. And then she made some bitchy comment about me not getting laid or whatever. So, I started a rumor that Edwin had walked in on Casey masturbating, and she'd asked him to join in. My sweet, innocent, desperate little brother, of course, acquiesced. I added that poor Lizzie had been walking past and seen them through a crack in the door they hadn't even bothered to close all the way. Nice, huh?

Plus it gives Ed a little street-cred, nailing his hot stepsister and all. Who says I'm not a good big brother, huh? I wanted to do more, but I was only able to write her name and cell number in one of the mens' rooms before the bell for class rang. I went to class like a good little boy with a gleeful smile on my face. Casey came in, some thirty minutes late and flustered-looking. I'd "accidentally" bleached most of her clothes white the other day, so she was wearing a boring ensemble that made her stand out better than any target marking I could've possibly devised. I made sure that someone would spill water on her lap later in the day, discreetly, of course. Oh, you wouldn't believe how EVERYONE whispered about her! Casey glowered at me and paid attention to the lesson studiously, although I saw her glancing around, wondering what everyone was saying about her.

I was one of the first out of the classroom so that she couldn't chase me, and during that passing period, I wrote her number in the rest of the restrooms with the sideline: Call for a good time! Satisfied, I disposed of the offending marker and practically skipped off to the next class. Casey opened her locker the next passing period, and I had a front-row view of the action. The condom did indeed explode in her face, and everyone saw the pictures taped up, so she got sent off to the nurse's first, and then the principal's office. The best part of all was that her shirt was see-through! Unfortunately, she was wearing a bra.

But she emerged from the nurse's office looking a little worse for the wear. This was understandable. Her clothes were wrinkled, and her whole head was wet, like she'd been stuck in the faucet. She was clean, mostly, but she stank of old mayo to high heaven the whole day. Furthermore, there was a haunted, deer-like look in her eyes, and she was wearing a really dumb, really tight Barney t-shirt and rainbow-colored bell-bottoms. She looked like she'd been felt up by the nurse, but I didn't care.

In my book, the bitch got and will continue to get what she deserved.

Casey wound up getting detention and community service for the rest of the year. Yes, I was more than a little satisfied. I resolved to send my old business partner a fruit basket.

By the end of the day, the terrifically wonderful rumor had spread and changed so much that Casey had crept in Edwin's room at night and was giving him a handjob in his sleep, and Nora had walked in and seen it and was now pressing charges. Ah, molestation. I took the liberty of contributing an aggravated, attempted sodomy when Ed woke up. The gossips added that she was being shipped off to live with her dad in Australia. Ridiculous, isn't it? That was just one strain. Another was that she and Edwin were having a secret affair since she got here, and she had invited both of our sisters to come join in gleefully. The sisters had then come to me, and I, of course, had busted her. The best part of all was that Casey knew nothing of it until Sam finally realized what they were saying. He, like Emily and a few others, saw the lies for what they were and told Casey, who had a breakdown in front of everyone. She literally went nuts.

I chose that particular time to skip out, but a friend of mine texted me to tell me that they had called George up to bring her home. There would be hell when I got back at home, but I didn't give a damn. I had other pranks to plan, so I went back to school afterward for practice and stayed a little later, setting up things on the computer. I kept them in a dummy file, of course, that I made sure translated to every computer in the school. I took advantage of my vast Photoshop knowledge to make VD ads with her as the face, and then put her face on an anorexic, naked transsexual who hadn't had his surgery done. I then printed these out and hung them up all over the school. I got out of school understandably late, and of course I was starving... But it helps to have a master key in situations such as these.

Since I was desperate to avoid a confrontation (or, rather, being punished), I headed to Smelly Nelly's for a bite and then dashed over to the rink to cram in my now-customary four hours. My stamina has increased exponentially, and I've learned how to take a lot of pain. Though I guess you could also blame Casey for that. But, like I said, I've resolved not to think about that. Yeah, I know, resolved. Wow. Big word for little man.

I can just picture that bitch saying that to me. Makes me so damn angry to think about her, so it's all I can do to let out a little of my frustration with the pranks. Otherwise I would throttle her.

Wondering 'bout the sudden change in me, aren't you? What, was I supposed to be some lovesick, Casey-obsessed freak for the rest of my life? I'm no damn whiny emo kid, thanks. My life isn't over, so why should I mope around like it is? I'm not going to be that guy, that pansy, okay?! I am not Sam! And I don't want to be, even if he's got Casey or whatever. Because, if I was Sam, I wouldn't be that completely stupid.

That thing... that time when I was all quiet and crap, that was just a phase. That was the concussion talking, and hell, I'm supposed to be irritable, so maybe this is still the concussion talking, only it's been two weeks since it happened, so I kinda doubt it. Something inside me snapped that day last week, though. Okay, yeah, I was lying when I said I wasn't jealous. So sue me. I'm a big fat liar; what else is new? They don't call me the Lord of the Lies for nothing.

Now, what Casey said that day was bad enough, but me just standing there and taking it... Well, that was worse. Oh, and I wanted to make so many little comments to every one of her oh-so clever snide remarks. Like I give a damn what she thinks of me? So what, I'm a whore! Manwhore. Lothario. Don Juan. Romeo (Mercutio, though, really. I'm not that romantic). Flirt. Sheik. Cad. Rake. Lech. Stud. Libertine. Pimp. Philanderer. Wencher. Womanizer. Mujeriego. Shirt-chaser. Sleaze. Lady-killer. Ladies' man. Casanova. Benedick. Seducer of women. Incubus. Player. Sex Fiend. Whatever the hell you want to call it. It was torture to bite back those retorts.

Because of course I couldn't bring up that fling with her. Oh, no, that was off-limits, my lips are sealed territory. The really, really, really insulting thing was when Sam pitied me. It was so ironic, too. Sam saying that when he'd stolen my girlfriend. Not that he knew. I guess I can't call him deliberately mean or anything. But Sam pitying me? That's when I knew I was in for it. It was like a slap in the face.

I didn't want his insulting, condescending pity. And if he thought I did, well, then I had prove him wrong. That snapped me out of it, that and all the awful things she said. Because I couldn't let the fricking bitch have that kind of power over me. It was emasculating. I wasn't about to let her rub it in my face and hurt me like that. I wasn't going to go down without a fight or just take her crap anymore. What she was doing was manipulation, no better than rubbing salt in my wound. It was unbearable, so I had to get over it. I couldn't live otherwise because that was no kind of life.

Admittedly, it took a while to get back into the proper swing of things, but now I'm there. I've stopped thinking around her all the time, and I've stopped watching that show just because there's a girl on it who looks like her. I've stopped hiding her clothes just because they smell like her, and I've stopped staring forlornly at her shampoo bottle, wanting to use it. And I've started to use that shower again. It's healthier now. Baby steps. But I don't like to think about those days, that awful week.

I'd prefer, really, to just forget it all. I remember it as a haze of endorphins and painkillers and unconsciousness. Anything to kill the pain.

As I said, I am not the type to wallow. I am not a defeated man.

I am, however, not a glutton for punishment, so I called up Ralph and asked if I could stay at his place. His parents are complete morons (they smoked a bit too much pot in their day, so their brains were fried), so they agreed easily. Those guys love me. I told Ralph I'd be there in five to ten minutes and called home. Fortunately, I got the answering machine, so I left a message saying that I was at a friend's house. I almost said Ralph's place, but I was worried they'd come get me and ground me. So I showered at Ralph's before passing out on his couch for the night. I was sore and exhausted.

The doctors say I'm supposed to be getting some rest with this concussion of mine. As if I could be bothered! I don't have time for that crazy stuff. Ralph's mom woke me up an hour early, so I got ready (I always keep a spare set of street clothes in my gym bag), ate breakfast courtesy of Ralph's mommy, and then headed off to school. It was a busy day. The posters were still there, so I wrote a little poem to stick in the newspaper. The editors were curiously lax, so I knew it'd get in. I signed Casey's name to the obscene little lines and then set about to continue destroying her. I broke into her gym locker and carefully "spilled" battery acid on her gym clothes. After that was done, I wondered what I could do next to further embarrass her.

It came to me, and I dashed off to the library to look for what I needed on the Internet. Sending dog crap is so elementary, as is pissing on her stuff. However, looking up the number of a transsexual entertainer/escort... you know what that means, hehe... is complex. I quickly called the hooker, who happened to be the cheapest and trashiest one I could find that would come all the way to London on such short notice. I adopted a falsetto, mimicking that annoying voice that was so familiar to me, and proceeded to give her our address. I gave her Casey's cell number, explaining that I was calling on my boyfriend's phone and that he didn't know. I told her I was Casey, and that was who she was supposed to ask for, and then I proceeded to tell her the whole story about Sam. S/he was sympathetic, and I "confessed" that I'd thought it over, and if that sort of thing made Sam happy, I was willing and curious to do it. S/he tried to have phone sex with me, but it was just disgusting, so I told her my little sister was in the room and I had to go. Finally, I told s/he to get a copy of her gas bill because I would reimburse her. Casey's in for such trouble.

Then I headed out for a smoke. Replacing one addiction with another, don'tcha know? I actually think this one's healthier. I'd stopped for a while after things with Casey got serious, but I'd started right back up again with the cravings. The first few days I had been smokeless, since the 'rents wouldn't let me out of the house, and I was actually scared it might be detrimental to my health. It killed me to do it, but I had the pills, so I was out of my mind or asleep most of it. And when I wasn't. Stunning, I know. I'm not back completely yet. After all, I haven't had sex for over two weeks... the last time was in the shower with Casey. And I can't go there. I just can't. Not again. Not now.

I'm just finally getting everything back together again, you know? I kind of almost feel like myself again, except meaner and heartless. And I know some people wouldn't approve... Sam especially not, I assume, and my family... But I don't give a damn. This is my way of dealing with things. This is my way of getting over it and getting even. This is my way of putting one foot in front of the other and marching onward. This is my way of surviving, y'know? Makes me feel all alive.

I haven't had fun like this in years. Since before I ever heard her name, much less met her. It's good to be back.

Screw Mr. Right. I'm Mr. Wrong, and it's about time I stopped pretending I'm not. After all, Casey knew it all along. I never fit in with her perfect little plans, and that's why Sam's standing in my place, now isn't it? I just don't fit into her world. So yeah. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I'm no Nice Guy. I'm a meanspirited, promiscuous, addictive asshole, and I can't be anything else. I'm okay with that. I'm a helluva Bad Guy. I'm evil. I'm Satan. She hates me. Big freakin' deal. I get it. I've accepted it. And it feels good. Damn good. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin again, and I'm FREE! No more Mr. Obvious for me.

So they can give me the moral lectures, but I'm just repaying the favor. Casey's just as cruel as I am. She might even be worse. Have I ever deliberately brok... No, I haven't. Can't even finish the sentence. I'm a man of accidence too, you see. And I see the way she pulls Sam a little closer whenever I come around (then again, that could just be because she's scared of me. Damn right she should be). I see how affectionate and doubt-free she seems when I'm passing by in the halls. The bitch does it on purpose. She does it because she knows it makes me upset. I freaking _told _her not to do it in front of me. Spare us this last courtesy, I'd practically said. It was my one request other than...

My point is that it was a condition, and she broke it! I could destroy her with what I know, and I know every little thing about her! I know her inside and out, up and down, and left and right. I've memorized her face, and her whole body is a mental picture I can recreate on will. I swoon a little at her smell, close my eyes and sway on my feet a little. Just that smell makes me all hot and bothered. I've said too much, but I could pick it out in a perfume shop. Goosebumps form when I remember touching her skin, and the feel of it, all soft and smooth, is ingrained in my fingers. If I close my eyes, I can still taste her on my lips, feel her lips against mine. That I remember most of all, so damn vividly that it hurts more than looking at her and that impassive face, closing me off like a blank, cold piece of slate. If I wanted to, she'd be dead.

Socially, that is.

Obviously I can't kill her. She's family, after all... and why kill her when I can make her life a living hell? There's a hell of a lot less jail time this way.

Of course, I have a reputation too, you know. It's not the stepsister thing. Although that's what's got Casey all squeamish. I have no such problem. When have I ever really thought of Casey like that? I mean, sure, I call her sis to piss her off, but she's as much as a sister to me as Sam is. Maybe even less. Can't decide which of them I hate more. Or which one's more effeminate, well, obviously Casey, but there's a strong case (punny) for Sam... Kind of a toss-up really, although I guess I'm not sexually attracted to Sam, so, there ya go, sister!

It's the other thing. And I don't want to look like a scorned, spurned lover, thanks. I am not that pathetic. Let Casey off with all the credit of being the only girl to ever tam... um, brea... no... hur... well, you know what I mean. I refuse! She'd be a freaking legend! Even if I would get sympathy points and girl action. It's not worth losing my dignity! I'm above all that romantic garbage! The guys would make a laughingstock of me if they knew. Much less that it was a chick like Casey McDonald, dork extraordinaire.

Next thing I knew, I'd blown my way through three more cigarettes. I frowned, squashing the last one under my foot. That was far from healthy, and I wasted that many good drags thinking about Casey. Flipping depressing. I scowled, putting the pack in my jacket, and stepped back inside to rule the roost. Normally, when I'm pissed, people know to get out of my way. Casey is abnormal, although she oughtta know that better than anyone. So, of course, I ran into Her Clumsiness. Bitch wasn't looking where she was going.

And damn if she wasn't early to school. Super-keener. We had one of those rare head-on collisions they like to throw in movies and kids' cartoons. I was just innocently walking around the corner, and BAM! Her books scattered all over the floor, and she bit her lip, looking nervous and afraid of me. Cute, Case. You look like Bambi with those wide eyes of yours. Wish she'd stop looking at me like that, too. Makes me feel like I killed her mommy or something. She mumbled something unintelligible, and I turned around, not particularly wanting to bother myself with her.

Suddenly she grabs me by the neck, whirling me around. Then her hands pressed into my neck, her nails digging into my skin, and she damn near wrung my neck. I was a little breathless, but she was so mad that her grip wasn't half as hard as it could've been. I didn't much care either way, but I knew what I could do. We were all alone in that hallway, so I wrapped my arms around her waist, hard, and I pulled her flush against me. At the very least, I knew what would make her uncomfortable. I leaned in extra close to Casey to whisper in her ear. "Don't think you wanna do that, Sweetheart," I rasped, shooting her a murderous look.

That was enough to make Casey jump back in fright. Her hands dropped off my neck. I rubbed my throat but otherwise said nothing. Casey's face was so pale, and she was wearing all black. I couldn't decide if she looked beautiful or like death. She shook her head, staring at me hatefully. "What is **wrong **with you, Derek? The things you've done lately..."

I scoffed. "Like you didn't deserve every last one of them. I'm just repaying the favor, Case," I retorted viciously. I hated how looking at her made me want to rip off all her clothes. I hated how even when she looked awful, with puffy eyes and messy hair, that I still... I don't know. Mostly, though, when I saw her, I wanted to strangle her. But I couldn't do that, even though the urge was damn near overwhelming me, and I wanted to hurt her just as much as she'd hurt me. I'm not that much of an asshole.

Casey walked towards me, literally seething. She grabbed me forcibly by the shoulders and shook me. I almost smirked at how close she was, but she didn't give me time to turn it against her. "No, Derek... This goes beyond your _stupid _little broken heart. This is about the fact that _you_, even in your slighted state, have no sense of decency!" Casey snarled like a rabid animal, pushing me back a solid foot. No more Friendly Fido. The bitch is back. Ouch. Two references to me being heartbroken and _slighted _and pathetic. Lovely. Derek Venturi does not get ditched or slighted. And... my broken heart's stupid? Why? Why am I the stupid one here? 'Cause I fell in love with my stepsister? She's the one who went back to that cheating asshole who she caught cheating on her with both genders, and _I'm _the stupid one?! I opened my mouth to say the first nasty thing I could think of, but Casey beat me to the punch. She slapped me hard and suddenly across the mouth.

My lips stung unpleasantly, and I tasted blood. It wasn't new, though, and I didn't much care. I didn't care about much of anything anymore, I guess. I put my fingers to my lips, tasting iron, wiping away the blood but not the pain. "You told everyone that I was molesting my little stepbrother! He's just a kid and..." Casey exclaimed in a voice that was half-gasp and half-scream before words failed her. She tried to charge at me then, fisting her hands and beginning to beat on my chest like a drum.

And then, I finished for her mentally, you're not interested in Edwin anyways. Hell, you won't even let your little sister _like _him!

I shook my head, carefully removing her hands from my chest. I eyed them with something like disdain but not quite. "Well, I wanted to tell them **some **measure of the truth," I quipped nastily, leering at her. She was so furious with me that she probably didn't notice that I'd retreated about three meters. I smirked at her. Hell, since she'd seen fit to bring up my f-f-feelings... Ugh, that blasted F-word. Since she'd mentioned that, I'd figured that it was only right to make the nasty comments about our time together that I'd refrained from mentioning earlier... out of some kind of ridiculous respect. "After all, couldn't very well say you were making it with a lout like me, could I? After all, think of your _reputation_!" I continued sarcastically.

Suddenly, I found myself wanting a drink very much. Casey flushed, and that made me feel very satisfied. But not quite as satisfied as I would be if there was a drink in my hand. Unfortunately, however, the bitch recovered fast. "I must admit that I am quite surprised in you, Derek. Who would've ever thought that you knew the word, much less how to use it properly? But let's get it right... you're a cad!" She rejoined rather lamely. Oh, how promising I thought that one was. She placed her hands on her hips and looked rather huffy. Almost like a peacock or something. "Besides, _what _reputation, Derek? What reputation could I possibly have left? I'm either Klutzilla or the Grub or a slut or a troublemaker and now everyone thinks I'm a child molester!" An exasperated Casey threw her hands in the air, and I noticed she was now pacing.

I felt a small degree of satisfaction at that. Too true. Ah, how the mighty have fallen. I would've said it out loud too, but I merely shrugged instead, content with my silent pleasure at her expense. How lovely it is to have such influence over public opinion. However, I seriously doubt most people actually believe that rumor, so I'm going to have to do better. Casey stopped suddenly and shot me a nasty look. Once again she advanced towards me accusingly. "You poured red dye all over me while I was sleeping, then, as if that wasn't enough, you burned "SLUT" into my mattress!" I rolled my eyes. How on Earth is that distressing? I did worse to her yesterday.

"I call 'em as I see 'em," I muttered dismissively. Her jaw dropped, and she quickly moved to say something, but I cut her off. "And don't go crying over it. Dad and Nora were going to buy you a new one anyways." Which she knew just as well as I did. Besides, I could've used a permanent dye. None of it really seeped into the carpet or anything. At least she got most of it out. Sheesh.

Casey bristled at the insinuation at first, but then she seemed to calm. This both perplexed and worried me. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. "But why, Derek?" She asked calmly. She sounded genuinely curious, and I couldn't help but wonder just what her angle was.

Nevertheless, I've never been one to shut up or quit while I'm ahead, so I told her. "I couldn't bear to see it look so damn clean..." Like nothing had even happened! That stupid white mattress. Hypocrite. "When it was so _dirty_." And you, I added mentally. Casey raised an eyebrow, coolly motioning for me to go on. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, awkward even. Not good territory after a brea... Not good. "The slut is self-explanatory, but I couldn't bear the thought of you going around, pretending to be all prim and proper when I _still _remember **pounding **into you every night for two _solid _weeks on that mattress!" I shouted back without thinking, suddenly realizing how bitter I really was about the whole thing.

What happened next surprised me. Hell, it knocked me off my game a little. Okay, a lot.

Casey grinned as if she'd won some great victory, which meant that she'd made me look ridiculous again. She did, however, have the modesty to color when I mentioned our copulation in such graphic terms. Yeah, you know, if I'm such a Cro-Magnon, how do I know so many big words? I ought to get a loonie every time I po... no, a sexual favor from Casey for every one of those. It'd be a great way to learn my vocabulary, I should think. I wanted to wipe that wide smile clear off her face, but I couldn't slap her like she'd hit me. So I had to say something vicious that would make her stop. "Oh, Sis, enjoying the memories? Or is that smirk something else you learned from me?" I interjected icily.

The grin immediately dropped off of Casey's face, and she looked almost shamed. She was pale once again. Not good enough to fool me, though. Psh, like she didn't enjoy it while it lasted. I had the bitch begging for more. Faster, Derek. Harder, Derek. Ooh, oh, wow, Derek. That feels so good, Derek. Do it again. Now, Derek! Didn't mind bossing me around when she could, now did she? Casey seemed to shake off all these notions almost like a dog fresh out of a bath. She proceeded with her diatribe, "You glued thousands of pictures of penises inside my locker!" I relished the horrified tone in her voice.

Inspiration came at me in a flash, and I grinned wickedly, having thought of something perfectly merciless to say to her. "Oh, sorry," I said facetiously, "I thought you liked them." Sure liked having them inside of you, or, well, mine inside of you. But I ought not to think about that. It'll only make me angri... oh, wait, I don't care! Bring it on! That would've been bad enough, sure, but I wasn't done. I plastered a fake, sympathetic smile on my lips, batting my eyelashes innocently. "Should I have put them in Sam's locker instead?" I questioned naively, mocking the both of them. Casey's eyes flashed, and she slumped a little. I saw the glint of shame and worthlessness in her eye, but I wasn't finished yet. "I hear he likes them," I deadpanned, going in for the kill.

Casey's face turned red, and she held her neck up, trying to pretend the comment didn't hurt. Like I cared. Game, set, and ma... "At least Sam loves me back," Casey pointed out in a completely flat voice. "More than can be said for you." The comment stung a little. Or a lot. Because you never gave a damn about me. Yeah. WE KNOW! You don't have to rub it in my face every friggin' chance you get! I get it! YOU DON'T LOVE ME! What the hell else is new? I knew that when you were having sex with me. Besides, I dumped her, not the other way around!

I shrugged and pretended like I didn't care. Don't think she bought it. "At least I don't suck in the sack," I countered childishly, imitating her voice. Oh, wow, look at the rhyming. I would've said the obvious... that I'm better, but it wouldn't go with the "at least." I crossed my arms over my chest and flashed her a terse smile. "More than can be said for Sam, I'm sure." Casey just shrugged carelessly and said nothing. Well, there ya have it. Proof that I'm just simply better.

"I'll be sure to give you all the gory details when the both of you don't repulse me so much," Casey said in a faux-kind voice. The comment left me speechless... because it obviously meant that she hadn't had sex with Sam yet, and that, well, that kind of flummoxed me. Casey seemed to realize this too, but she didn't look embarrassed or annoyed or anything. She just stood up a little higher and prouder. "Yeah, I said it. So drop the slut label, Prostidude!" Casey said sharply, bluntly.

I had been surprised, but I was not unprepared. "Actually, Casey, I believe that would be your manhole of a boyfriend," I replied smoothly, flashing a smug smile. I jumped back just in time so she couldn't scratch my eyes out. The Sam insults were just flowing. Like spirits or something.

"Yeah, because you haven't been with a girl since me!" That was true, I'll admit it. I believe, actually, I already did. Maybe it's because I don't want to. Has she ever considered that? That I like the fact that she's the last girl I've banged? Because I do, as messed up as it is. But I wasn't stupid enough to say that. I can't believe she actually admitted it, the hooking-up thing. Broke her own promise and all.

What she said, though, it kind of set me off, so I stalked towards her, backing her into a locker. I pressed my fingers against the bruises on her back, pulled up her shirt, pushing down her tights a sliver to see the yellowing bruises on her hips and grip them hard. I lightly brushed my finger across the lovebites. "Lovebites", how fake, how phony! Love had nothing to do with it, Baby! If I thought I could've gotten away with it, I would've pulled her tights down all the way and found every last bruise my fingertips left on her thighs. I would've kissed every faded, dusky pink hickey.

But I couldn't, so I pressed them like buttons through her clothes instead. I slipped a hand up and underneath her skirt and back out again. Casey was frozen, powerless, even, and definitely in pain, but she just bit down on her lip and remained stubbornly silent. "Does the word "date rape" mean anything to you?" Casey bit out tranquilly, fixing me with a look that made me feel the proper amount of shame. It did, damn it, but that didn't mean I had to be a damn angel. We have a rather... abusive relationship. I wanted to rip my hands right off of her body as if they were on fire, but I didn't. I kept my hands placed firmly on her upper thighs, but I stopped pressing her into the wall and loosened my grip.

I managed a narrow smirk. Plus, we're not exactly dating anymore, nor, really, were we ever. "Funny... I didn't hear, see, or feel you objecting," I retorted, sliding my hand inwards, along the curve of her leg. I traced a tempting trail with my fingers, and she didn't seem to stop me much. In fact, she was still gasping for air, and I could feel her pulse beating double-time through the the tights... all the way down in her thighs. Gee, wonder where all the blood's going. "Watch the erratic breaths, Case. Someone might actually think you're turned on by my manhandling," I murmured only millimeters away from her neck, close enough that she felt the hot puffs of breath on her throat and the vibrations of my words and my hovering lips so close yet too far. Casey had always hated it when I was in control, and she'd never really appreciated roughness of any sort. But she's no butterfly.

"Or I might be scared. After all, a desperate man can and will do anything, especially if he thinks it will get him what he wants," Casey remarked too fast, nerves showing through in her voice. Her voice was still surprisingly measured and calm. She knew just where to strike, calling me, ME, _desperate_! I overlooked the fact that she was probably a little right. Still, I didn't entirely buy it. Her excuse. It's more than fear that keeps her here, because she's neither fleeing nor fighting. She likes it, all right. Or are the memories, her body, and her hormones just conspiring to confuse her. Really, the simplest answer is pretty much always the right one. Everybody knows that.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, Babe," I responded swiftly, flashing her a sly grin. Bitch has no idea what she's in for. I'm gonna enjoy this.

Casey made a face at the term of endearment. It really had lost all meaning as that, though, with the disdain in my voice. "You bleached my clothes." I rolled my eyes, yawning in boredom. What is this, her reciting a list of my offenses? Big deal. I've done way worse, and I'm about to do worse. In fact, this conversation means that I have clearly not done enough to frickin' sabotage her life. I need to do more... I'm thinking computer-inspired mayhem this time 'round. Maybe make a little video or something.

I shrugged carelessly, readopting my cool attitude. "There was just something so ironic and wonderfully hypocritical about dressing my ex-whore up in shades of white. White for purity and chastity, right? Some virtue you've got now," I declared with a touch of decadent glee. I'm probably being too self-indulgent, but it's worth it. I love making people miserable... ruining lives. It's all so fun. There's the thrill of the hunt. And, I assure you, I'll have her shot dead and mounted on my wall like the trophy she is. I'm going to make my greatest defeat my biggest triumph. Casey swiped at me and slapped me before I could blink. She would've assaulted me further, but I pushed her off, holding her back artfully. My smirk widened. "Forgive me, really, but I just couldn't resist." I paused briefly, putting a finger to my lips. "Kinda like you, actually, when we were sleeping together."

She flinched at the reminder, and this look came over her face, as if she'd smelled something rotten. Me. I could've said something nasty about Sam, but that would've been a little played out. Casey glared at me and literally itched to slap me again. "I was never your _whore_, Derek, and I was never really yours," Casey snarled fearsomely. Her eyes pulsed with midnight blue rage. It was nice to see them that color again, I thought dimly. She said some other junk after that, but I didn't care. Blah, blah, blah, can't believe you could be such a cad, blah, blah, blah, worse than Max, blah, blah, blah, this is needlessly vindictive, blah, blah, blah, it was your choice so why are you so upset, blah, blah, blah, can you seriously blame me? For what, saying yes to Sam? Hells yeah, I can! I'm supposed to be enough for her! Or, I was... That one pissed me off enough to finally cut her off.

Okay, so I knew the whore thing would piss her off, and, probably, that it wasn't actually true, but it was the only way I could get any further under her skin. I have to undermine her self-worth just to be competitive. Or else she'll remember and then bring up the fact that I'm in love with her, and that's just something I can't really deal with right now. My feelings haven't gone away yet. Damn fluttering. "I seem to recall you giving me yourself," I interjected somewhat irritably. "Giving someone your body typically means something," I continued pointedly. Typically, only not in this case... oh, I'm not sure. It had to, right? Damn it, why am I asking myself all these stupid questions?! I raised an eyebrow as if daring her to challenge my statement.

As usual, she rose to the challenge. "Not to people like you, Der, so why are you taking it so seriously? Why do you persist in believing our _arrangement_ was any different than all your other little flings?" Casey questioned mockingly. She said it as if she couldn't understand it. She called it an "arrangement" once again. So help me, God, I want to KILL her. What part of I'M (expletive deleted) IN LOVE WITH YOU doesn't she understand. That's what made it different. I actually care. It meant something to me, and I'm sick of her frickin' trivializing it.

Somehow I managed to restrain myself from acting on these violent urges. I drew in a shaky breath and tried to steady myself. Be calm, cool, collected. Don't let this girl get any further under your skin. She's not worth this. Only she is, and I hate it. A good idea came to mind, so I started talking, feeling the smirk on my face widen and become increasingly more pleased as I spoke. "Because if it wasn't, you'd be a whore, just like all the other ones... and you claim you're not a whore, remember?" I said in a voice as smooth as velvet, swiftly trapping her in a cage of her own words. I was proud of myself for that one.

Now, the real question is is she or isn't she a whore? I personally don't think so, but she can't go on about it all being sex to her. She's a girl, so she's got to be at least a little emotionally invested. A girl like Casey doesn't just give it up to anyone, after all. Even if it was a major sexual awakening for her, she can't say it was meaningless sex. No sex is meaningless unless you're too drunk to know what you're doing. There's always a reason and always a purpose. But, then again, sex doesn't equal a relationship. Casey was predictably dumbfounded and silent for well over a minute before attempting to speak. "I..." She began.

Wow. Not even gonna pull out the "friends-with-benefits" thing? Then again, we never really were friends. I clucked my tongue amusedly. The balance of power is in my hands. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't, Case," I taunted mercilessly, staring at her through narrow slits. I moved closer in a predatory sort of way, eyes dark and glittering. I placed a finger on her lips, giving her a wink and patting her on the cheek lightly. "Watch your tongue, Dollface," I warned in a lilting voice. Too easy.

Casey slapped my hand away, quickly growing irate. Seriously, though, which is it? How can she rationalize it? "Der-EK-" Casey started, sounding exasperated. I knew she was going to try and tell me off, but I didn't want to listen, so I cut her off. Her lips were frozen in their pursed position, enticing and hinting at all the possibilities. And I wanted to kiss her really, really, really bad. So bad. But I couldn't do that.

I tried to smirk, but it didn't quite work this time. My face was twisted up into some kind of grimace. Casey was too dumb and too unaware to notice. She never could read me that well. "You know how much I love it when you say my name like that," I drawled, flashing her a wholly inappropriate reach. A disgusted look passed over Casey's face. I paused, sobering up, dropping the strange snarl off my face. "But really, my point is this: sex means something to you. Just because it was **me **doesn't mean it was meaningless. _You're _not that kind of girl," I finished so coolly, so logically, that I thought I must be a different person. Still, I couldn't help but feel like I was trying to convince myself of that fact more than her, that I needed it to be true. I guess I just wanted to be worth something, for once.

I wanted to tell myself it had happened for a purpose, for a reason, that it wasn't a coincidence. I wanted it to be more than me being in the right place at the wrong time. I wanted it to be about more than just the fact that I was there, and maybe I wanted to think that she wouldn't have just screwed anyone that night in an attempt to get over Sam. I wanted to think that I wasn't just a way of getting revenge against Sam. That all of it had actually meant something to her.

But you can't always get what you want, and I can't. Not anymore.

Casey rolled her eyes, hitting me away from her. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. "And _you're _not this type of guy, Derek, so stop acting like a depressed emo kid and just accept it," Casey sneered, giving me the ultimate brush-off. I stood there numb, not wanting to accept it. Her posture straightened, and suddenly she looked so freaking radiant and self-righteous that I wanted to shoot myself out of the sheer unworthiness. It was the first time I had ever felt that I didn't deserve something... that I wasn't entitled to what I wanted, and that, maybe, I should just give up. I wasn't going to get her back, especially not this way.

I was even gonna give up the revenge thing and just try and move on with my life in a healthier way. You know, sleeping around, drinking heavily, smoking a lot... the usual things. But then Casey drove the knife in further, so far and so expertly that I would've never thought she had it in her. "We had sex. S-E-X. We slept together, Derek, but we didn't make love. It doesn't mean you know me or anything, and it doesn't mean we were intimate. It was animal magnetism, chemistry, hormones... and you were there. I was on the _rebound, _and looking for a way to kill time. Don't romanticize it," Casey stated in an utterly detached, clipped tone. She sounded almost bored. And that made me furious all over again. Apathy.

God, how much, exactly, did I rub off on her?

It's not so nice the other way around.

So I snapped, and I completely lost it. I didn't start bawling or anything wussy like that, but I lost all semblances of control. And I hate that; I hate it, and I **hate **her! I was overcome by a white-hot rage. I saw red giant stars I was so mad. I don't even remember any of what happened next because it was so fast and I had a rage blackout. I have never, ever, ever been so completely mad in my life. I seized her violently, wrapping my fingers around her upper arms, gripping her flesh so hard my knuckles were white with the force of it. I could feel the skin bruising again beneath my fingers, and I didn't care. I wanted to mess her up and down and all over the walls. I wanted to splatter her, shatter her, break her wide open, rip her to pieces, and grind her bones into dust.

I shook her instead, a testament to the small degree of control still left in me. I shook her hard and fast, like it had been before, only again and again and again, hurting her. "No! You don't get to do that. You don't get to stand there like that, uncaring like there isn't a bone of empathy in you! I'm sick of this, Casey. You don't get to say that it meant nothing to you or tell me that it should mean nothing to me. Because it meant _something, _damnit, even if you can't figure out what that is! "It's just sex" isn't going to cut it this time! YOU **DON'T **GET TO PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN! I WON'T _LET _YOU! You _**used**_ me, and that's **not **okay!" I snapped savagely, bellowing and damn near howling. Insert the deleted expletives between "you" and "used" and "not" and "okay." Yeah, you know the one. _That _one. You get the (expletive deleted) picture?! Hell, I'm not fricking OKAY!

That time I was the animal. I was a lion, roaring and ready to charge, with big, stabbing teeth and sharp claws. I was a lone wolf, howling at the moon, pacing and waiting and hunting and searching, picking off my next victim. I was an anaconda, silently biding my time, waiting to spring up and surround and crush my prey... swallow her whole. I was a snapping, sly crocodile, chomping down on flesh with the powerful jaws of a shark. I was a fearsome tiger leaping upon its unsuspecting prey. I was a Grizzly, a cartoon, stuffed teddy bear no more, not hibernating anymore, slashing away at my quarry, tearing her limb from limb, shredding and making ribbons of her skin. I was biting into the soft throat of a live rabbit, tasting iron and feeling its pulse beat rapidly, desperately beneath my teeth as it struggled in vain. I was a hyena, laughing hysterically, driven mad by bloodlust, feasting on a carcass that had already been picked over.

Casey's back slammed against the wall, and she groaned softly. I'd probably worsened some of the bruises she already had. Casey glowered at me, but everything that happened then was in a haze. Then she spoke, and suddenly it all became clear. "If you have to hurt me to feel better about yourself and your sorry life, then go ahead. I just never thought you were that pathetic, Derek," Casey hissed, steeling herself for the pain she accepted. Oh, I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to throttle her, to kill her with my bare hands. But I refrained because, of course, the bitch had a point. I wasn't going to take it lying down, though.

I slowly pulled my hands from her shoulders, reluctant to let go. I was afraid she'd escape or something. I stubbornly stared her straight in the eye. "If you have to hurt me to make up for having sex with me, then _you're _the pathetic one. It happened, and you being a bitch isn't going to erase it from my memory. Twisting the knife won't make either of us forget," I retorted before abruptly jerking away from her. I needed to get out of her proximity fast before I did something unbelievably stupid. Undoubtedly I was going to do something stupid. It was more a matter of prolonging it.

Casey rolled her eyes at me, pushing herself off the lockers with disdain. "Big boys don't cry," She quipped mockingly, dusting herself off. I was jealous of her hands. My jaw clenched at the remark, but of course she wasn't done. "Grow up, Derek. You stand there on the sidelines, looking at me like I'm your world, and you're all lost and hurt, and you expect me or someone else to come along and kiss your boo-boo and make it all better. Well, I'm not your mother, Derek, and I'm not your girlfriend, so stop hoping," Casey taunted, leering at me. Polly Prissypants straightened up her hair. I wanted to ruin its order, sully its perfection. And not just the hair either.

I stiffened but wasn't about to waste a word on her. Not yet. Not until I had the perfect thing to say. Am I stupid? I know she's not my mom or my girlfriend. But she was once, my girlfriend. And I don't expect her to pick up the pieces or some corny crap like that. And, ah, the audacity of hope! But I won't entertain that fantasy. I'm not the delusional one! Having her rub in this vulnerability... Is another thing entirely. After all, I have to deal with her at home too. She could just leave it right now. But she won't. She'll go on until the both of us are so drained and worn out that we'll be like walking zombies. Reminds me of our relationship. But I shouldn't think of that. I'm not as dumb as she thinks I am. I know it's done, but does she have to keep saying it?

Sounds like she's trying to convince someone... maybe even herself. That thought helped. Made me feel slightly more together. "I never took you to be a whiner, Derek. I **don't **want you; I **don't **_love _you, and it's time for you to finally get over it!" Casey screamed poisonously. Her words stung more than I could imagine, more than they had before that I could remember, but it wasn't like I was going to show it. Real snakebites paralyze, after all. Get over it. What, like she got over Sam? Oh, damn, that was a good one. I should've said that out loud. I couldn't wait to reply. I had to spring like she did, suddenly and without warning. It's not like I'm going to appear weak. Pah.

"Watch who you're messing with, _Honey. _I might be petty, but at least I'm not a self-centered, heartless bitch." Ah, it felt good to get that out. I shot her the obligatory glare, but it was lacking in intensity. Not that myopic Casey noticed. How blind can someone be? "As for the rest... I don't want you either," I proclaimed boldly. I wasn't sure how much of that was a lie or how much of it was true... All I knew was that it wasn't all one thing or the other. "Why would I? Remember, I broke up with _you_, and as much as you want to pretend it happened otherwise, it didn't. Besides, you're dirty now that you're back with Sloppy Sam. The perverse appeal of staining something once pure and pristine is gone," I continued coolly, a bit cruelly. Both of us can be unfeeling, and I can do it better. Practice makes perfect apathy, after all, or at least the glossy veneer of it.

The shots at her chastity help too. I just love double standards, don't you? Gotta love the frost. Now, to somehow brush the love thing aside. Bitch knows she has me there. I can't let her think she still affects me, you know. Even if she does... can't say it. "Take love out of the equation. It lacks relevance here, especially to yourself. Besides, that's the past," I added brusquely, plowing ahead at full force. I shook my head and my vision swam for a moment. It does that sometimes. I blinked it away and focused again on Casey. I needed to nail it to her, to trap her and pin her to the wall. Purely metaphorically, of course. It's dangerous to really be that close to her.

"_I'm_ the one who's gotten over it," I asserted. Got to be quick on my feet here, twist her all up so she can't see what's real and what isn't. One, two, thrEE! "After all, who assaulted who first, Casey? If you're so sure there was nothing to get over, then why do _you _keep bringing it up?" KA-POW! If only that was a knockout. Unfortunately the bitch is still standing, but it brings up an excellent point. After all, I'm the one who's trying not to think about it, yet she's the one who keeps bringing it up. So, really, what does that say about her? Plus she was the one who tackled me, even if it was because of something I did. I mean, I'm Derek Venturi. She doesn't expect me to take it like her little pansy boyfriend, does she?

It sure looked like Casey was suddenly considering it. She'd realized that I did have a point. Her mouth opened and closed dumbly, making her look like a fish. She couldn't think of anything to say, and it was a gratifying feeling. Deny that, bitch. You know, I don't care if all this bitch stuff makes me look like a chauvinist or whatever. I don't care if it's disparaging to women. Or empowering. I don't mean it to include all women. It is a word, in my mind, now specifically reserved for Casey. She's not a woman anymore. She's just a bitch. It's its own class or sex or whatever. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

Then Casey's lips tightened. "Because you can't let it go," she replied shortly. Okay, so she did have a tiny little point there. But what, she expected I was going to let her out of it scot-free, much less when she was with Sam in my presence? Originally, I did plan to lie low. I wasn't going to be this mean to her. I was just going to go back to the way things used to be. With me innocently pranking her and us bickering like kids. But we're not kids anymore. And we can't go back. And she hur-

"And you can't forget, no matter how much you want to," was my answer. We'd reached the point where the end was so near I could taste it. I wasn't really mad anymore but drained. Casey looked drawn and quiet. Her mere presence wasn't enough to make the hate rise up in my veins or tempt me. All I felt now was numb. The fight was almost over, or close to it. Both of us really lacked the energy to continue further. I just wanted to breathe. The rivalry wasn't all so easy like it used to be. It took a lot out of me to do all these nasty things to her.

I'm working myself to death playing hockey four hours a night, even after practice and the coaching gig. Not to mention my shifts at Smelly Nellie's. And I didn't sleep much last night. I don't have the energy or, really, the taste for it like I used to. Or, at least, that was then. It really could've gone either way, that moment. Unfortunately, the fight went on. And, unbelievably, got uglier. A strange, determined look appeared in Casey's eyes. "But I will," She said with an air of absolute serenity, certainty too. "I love Sam, and he loves me." Her calm assurances sounded discordant to my ears. And so horribly false I wanted to vomit. Like that was enough. It's not.

Assuming she can even seriously believe that Sam's in love with her. I know my boy, and he is a liar.

"Sometimes love isn't enough." The way I said it came out all wrong. It made it sound like I was irritated all over again with my voice gravelly and gruff. I hadn't meant it like that. It sounded like I was bitter and maybe that much was true. What I knew was this: Casey definitely loves Sam more than he loves her. I can't say for certain whether or not he actually does love her. But, to my knowledge he hasn't cheated on her lately, and he's getting even less than usual? But Casey's supposed love for Sam is also flawed. It can't be real, you know. Not like what I feel. It's different, illusory, deceptive. How can you love someone you don't really know?

Bam, and then I was annoyed all over again. Casey stiffened like the freaking priss she is. Somehow she managed to hold her head high. "You would know, wouldn't you?" I scowled at her, but it was such a lame insult that I didn't really care to counter it. Minor blows. I rolled my eyes at her, sending her a look that said clearly that I didn't buy a word she said. Casey got huffy then, like she always does when she's trying to prove her point. Normally I find that attractive... the blood rushing to her cheeks, her eyes flashing, her lips pursing, her spine straightening. But not then. Then it was repulsing. "When it's _reciprocated_, it is. Love is stronger than death," She said primly.

Where'd she get that? I swear it's a song title. And since when is death the alternative? Morbid girl. Bitch put her special stress on reciprocated, didn't she? Yeah, I don't know what that's like. Big deal. "Yeah, sure it is, Darlin'," I said sarcastically, offhandedly. I paused briefly and the words just spilled out so fast I could scarcely believe it. "But is it stronger than seeing your boyfriend's lips on some guy's genitals? Of knowing that his lips aren't glossy because he's been licking them or because he's been wearing Chapstick or eating greasy foods? Or seeing his fingers up Trashy Cassy's skirt? Is it stronger than wondering if you'll get an STD? Tell me, Casey, is it stronger than wondering just _what _that taste is when you kiss him? Or, rather, _who?"_

Casey went ashen at that, and I knew I'd affected her. Because she did wonder about that sort of thing. It didn't feel so good to get down to her insecurities, but it did feel good to take a potshot at my com-Sam, whenever I could. Seriously, though... I don't think you just get over something like that. Not Casey, because she clearly hasn't... But Sam. I mean, unless he was, I dunno, experimenting? "Stronger than _you_, Derek," Casey rejoined vehemently. Of course, that was enough. It was right, too.

No, not stronger than me. Not necessarily.

Yet something about hearing it said like that just made me so furious. I didn't want to kill her like I did before, but I had a burning desire to prove her wrong. As much as she tried to pretend she wasn't, she was still affected by me. At least I'm not dumb enough to pretend that she doesn't still chafe at me. So I did something stupid. What else is new?

I grabbed her by the waist and placed her legs around my waist before she could protest. I know. I totally felt like one of those dancing little wussies that she does ballet with like Andrew and Timothy. Then, seconds later, her back was pressed up against a locker, and she was pinned. I didn't slam her this time, though. Speed was key. I did, however, press her into the locker slightly hard. I was trying to ignore the fact that her legs were wrapped around my waist, and that she was basically straddling me, and her arms were twined around my neck, hands buried in fistfuls of my hair (and she was pulling on the ends). She was holding on for dear life... or because she was afraid I was going to drop her. I'm not Spartacus, so I can admit that I have accidentally done that before. But not then, when my veins were bursting with adrenaline. I could've lifted a house I was so determined to prove her wrong.

My hands slid down her hips and up her thighs, stopping midway. I clutched the fabric and tried to pull down, to bunch it up, to get those offending tights off. I wanted everyone to see her bruises. I accidentally pinched her skin instead, and more angry red bruises blossomed in the shapes of streaky fingertips. She was so warm and shaking in my arms, and she smelled heavenly, like she used to, that I just wanted to bury my head in her hair and go back, back inside of her, back to when I was happy. I wanted it so badly. I think Casey was afraid that I would... but I wouldn't. I would never, not really, not ever... never. She had to know that, right? I don't take like that, and not from someone who doesn't want what I have to offer... I was just trying to teach her a lesson.

Oh, and I mis... something awful. I didn't want to hurt her either. That was just an accident. But Casey, she dropped her hands down out of my hair and off my shoulders and tugged right back. Like she thought it would preserve her modesty or something? I can't fix her broken chastity belt. I leaned forward, until I was so close she could hardly bear it. My nose almost brushed against hers. It felt like there was only a sheet of paper, thin as can be, between us, and in some places only the thin sheet of cold sweat on our skin. It reminded me of... well, never mind. I was so painfully turned on that I could hardly stand it or hide it. I tried to look her in the eyes, but she evaded my gaze like a captured animal, a fleeing little fieldmouse. She kept slipping out of my reach, that small piece of her soul.

She had the eyes of something deceptively sweet, like that kitten that grows into a sabertoothed tiger. The danger of it creeps up on you until one day you're just... lunch. She tried to buck from my grip like a spooked horse, twisting her neck about this way and that with those large, haunting eyes, like she was some kind of owl or something. Stubborn like a mule, that one, and with the same fierce kick. My grip, however, was steady and strong and firm, and I used it to keep her close, trapped between me and the wall. A little mouse in my trap. And my hands were coarse and clumsy on her thighs, sliding down now, talcon-like fingers latching onto the elastic. My nails lightly scraped her skin as I pulled down. She tried at first to swat my hands away, like my fingers were annoying swarms of tiny, insignificant mosquitoes. Hell, that's what she thinks of me, isn't it?

Casey resorted to a desperate game of Tug and War. I knew I'd eventually win, but I let the charade carry on for a little while. She had to know I was so much stronger than her. But she didn't. So we both pulled, and, predictably, the tights ripped pretty much all the way down. Nylon isn't _that _flexible, after all. Now, Casey, on the other hand... Mm. That I'm gonna miss. It would've been funny if the situation wasn't so serious. The tights ripping, that is. They were pretty much unwearable. Casey started wriggling and began to speak loudly, bubbling over with fury.

So I'd wrecked her perfect little mourning outfit. Mourning what, by the way, her reputation? Me being nice to her? Ha, I'm not that egocentric! As I said many moons ago, when Casey was a newbie to London, "Who died?" That shirt wasn't even ugly. I said it for principle. And like she fell for Sam? My ass. She fell because all those times I was there, insulting her. Sam is not the kind of guy a girl falls for. Or over. Or on, really. Or falls all over herself for. And, clearly, I am that kind of guy. But I digress...

The tights were kind of like her external facade. Yes, Casey, I know that word. Triple-point score, I know. They were like all the lies she'd woven and put up and safely cocooned herself in. Nothing could happen to her with that kind of back-up, you know? Makes me sick. So me destroying them was kind of like me destroying the order in her life, making her unravel at the seams. And it was as close to ripping her apart as I could come. It was equally gratifying. I wanted to expose the truth. It's her fault she picked a miniskirt that day, now isn't it?

She opened her mouth to cry out, as I was saying, and I promptly covered her mouth with a free hand. I didn't mean anything sinister by it, contrary to popular belief. Or, in this Case, Casey's belief. I just am not that diabolical. I wanted the lesson to sink in. She doesn't hold all the power, and she needs to realize that. "Admit it, Casey... come on... admit that I still affect you," I urged in a husky whisper, making sure that she felt my breath slow and heavy and wet against her throat. Casey shook her head defiantly and continued to look away, so I tilted her chin downwards, forcing her to face me with the same hand that muzzled her. I realized, perhaps idiotically, that covering her mouth was not a wise move if I wanted her to admit that her body still responded to mine, that I still had some bizarre hold over her.

She still refused, so I used my other hand to gently pull the tights the rest of the way down her legs agonizingly slowly, one leg at a time. I pressed myself more firmly against her, further closer to her, if that makes any sense. Casey grunted in surprise, and I recognized that tiny victory. She also hadn't bitten my hand yet, and that was always something. I smiled at her, that low, visceral smile she recognized and hated. Then I trailed a finger down her calf, twirling small circles on her thighs until I was almost there. She tried to drop her legs down, to let go. Her whole being kind of jerked a little, but I wouldn't let her move. I idly traced the borders of her underwear, cotton and predictably white this time, so unlike the bold black lace I'd bought for her.

Casey was uncomfortable, and she squirmed at my presence, but I wasn't up to anything, per se. I just wanted to make her very, very uncomfortable. So, while distracting her thusly, with my fingers tickling her thigh, I slowly loosened the pressure of my hand on her lips. She was so caught up in trying to ignore where my other hand was and not revolt at it that she didn't even notice when I removed my hand from her mouth entirely and used it to bring myself still closer to her. She didn't turn her head or anything, but she kept looking at me with the same wide, panicked eyes. Her lips were mostly closed, just open a smidge, but she didn't dare to say a single word. Submission.

I noticed her breathing was fast, more like panting, really, and her heart must've been thudding because her pulse was quick. I smirked then, so close my lips were practically on hers. I could taste victory. I slid both hands down her thighs slowly, and Casey sighed. Part of her hair had come undone and was in her eyes, so Casey brushed it back with the back of her hand. Her skin was hot. She swallowed hard and looked at me like she was really looking at me again. Then she squared her shoulders. "What do I have to say?" She managed tightly.

I tried not to let the smirk overcome my face. I tilted my grinning lips over to her ear, taking care not to brush against her. Sounds funny, considering her legs were wrapped around my waist and my hands were on her thighs, but that was necessary. That I could control. Little gestures like this, though, could fast spiral out of my control. "You were right, Derek. You still make my blood race and my heart pound," I cooed smugly. Casey shot me a look that plainly said, "there is no way in hell I'm saying that." I rolled my eyes and thought for a moment. It had to be truly humiliating to truly break her. I sighed, and Casey flinched. Clearly she still responds to me. "Say... you were right, Derek. I can't deny it anymore. You affect me."

Casey gave me another yeah right look and I moved my hands down the side of her legs, towards her inner thighs. Her eyes closed reflexively, and I repeated myself stubbornly. "You were right, Derek. You still affect me. It happened." I moved my hands further downward, forcing her to say what I wanted. Casey let out a low hiss and gave me a hateful look.

She bit down hard on her lip, and I forced myself to hold back. I wanted to kiss her so badly. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth. She might as well have said a resigned fine. "You were right, Derek. You still affect me," Casey mumbled breathily. I moved still closer, making sure my hands made her even more hot and bothered without being inappropriate about it. I really wanted her to admit that it had happened. It wasn't enough to mention it or allude to it in a barb. That was defense or offense or something, her way of coping. But I wanted her to admit it. Her eyes snapped shut. "It _hap-_pened," She murmured hoarsely. Her voice caught on the word and it came, unwilling from her lips. Then her eyes opened and she shot me a downright pleading glance. "Just stop."

I was enjoying it a little too much, having her at my mercy and all. Yeah. I could so seduce her. Oh, but I wanted to push it a little further. I think I could've made her say anything. I didn't make her say that, though, what you're thinking. Any of it. "Ah ah ah. Call me _Master_," I insisted, fixing her with an unrelenting stare. I would've had her say my name, but she had no problem with that. Now, maybe if she moaned or screamed my name, but we've already gone over that. Casey's stare increased in wrath, but she did as I said. Satisfaction being achieved, I set her free.

I removed my hands from her legs abruptly, unwrapping her legs from my waist, and pulling her away from the lockers. I moved away from her as if I'd been burned, backing all the way across the hallway. Then I bowed mockingly, pantomiming lifting a hat to her, and winked at her rakishly. "Was that as good for you as it was for me, Kitten?" I drawled derisively, raising my eyebrows suggestively. I could've lit a cigarette to possibly be more obnoxious, but I didn't see the need in setting off the fire alarm. Casey shot me a disgusted look, and I suddenly noticed that she was blushing all over. She hurried to straighten up her clothes, tugging down her miniskirt and removing the ruined tights. Casey fixed her hair, straightening her spine. A stubborn, determined look passed over her features, and she charged over to me.

Her hands passed anxiously over her figure like she felt dirty. I thought it was hot. She was trying to forget the fact that I had made her admit it and made her look like an idiot. At least no one saw, right? So, naturally, she was overcompensating. However, she was still flustered, so she couldn't even think up a good broken-heart insult. "Seriously, could you still love me any more?" She bit out a bit irritably. I didn't really care, knowing she was still all hot and bothered. Mm. I was busy thinking about her naked and coming on to me. She dusted herself off in an attempt to convince herself that I hadn't just had my hands all over her. Her eyes darkened. "This means war," She declared boldly.

And mistakenly. Because there's no way in hell she could win against me. Seriously, Cruel Intentions much? Only I did sleep with her. And not on a bet. What she really meant is that I'm going to pay for that. Ooh, look at how absolutely petrified I am. Pick your pride up off the floor, Cupcake. "Don't start something you can't win, Casey. Everything up until now was just child's play. I can and _will _**crush **you if you make an enemy of me," I warned, a hint of threat in my voice. Seriously, what ammo can she possibly have that could hold up against me for even one second?

I hadn't realized I said that out loud until Casey sneered at me. "I have your heart. I know your weakness, Derek, and I won't hesitate to exploit it." Two things. One: Duh. You've been doing that this entire conversation. Two: Oh, great. Another crappy habit you've picked up from me. Yeah. Bitch will rub salt in the wound until it's even more raw. She'll put the damn appendage in a garbage disposal or meat grinder and flick the switch with pleasure. I always knew the bitch was a sadist.

"Yeah, well, who needs a metaphorical heart anyways? I've always been better off without one, and so long as the real one in my chest is beating, I'll be fine," I assured her breezily. It was mostly true, at any rate. Casey conveyed a surprising amount of nastiness with one glance. I was almost proud. "And really," I added with a touch of disgust, "Think up something new, for a change." My strength is that I am more experienced and can also attack her on multiple points. I can attack her on Sammy. I can attack her on her choice. I can attack her on being, alternatively, a priss and a slut. I can attack her appearance, her self-confidence, her weight, her dancing, her skin... I can attack her for being a dork and a keener and a bitch. And a klutz. I can even attack her on her attacking me and by mentioning the relationship we had and by coming on to her.

She's just got the heart thing. Big frickin' deal. Can't get me on the whore thing because I don't care, can't get me on messy and etcetera. All she can really do is whine about me and get me in trouble. Anything beyond that is far too complex for her. So I dunno what kind of war she thinks this is gonna be, but I assure you it'll be cold on her side. "Oh, I don't doubt that," Casey replied sweetly, flashing me an altogether saccharine smile. "It's not essential, of course, and you're a bastard anyway. However, I can make your life very painful to live. It's a sad, empty life without love, Derek," She said simply.

I wondered on that. Really, how bad can she make it? It's a dangerous thing to mess with someone's heart. It always is when emotions are involved... messy, that is. The girl shot me a look, basking in her... whatever. Just basking. Bitch. My eyes raked over her, lingering on her legs and coming back up to take the whole picture in again. Her clothes were definitely not loose-fitting. They practically looked like she'd been sewn into them. How did I not notice this before? She looks all hot and evil. Damn, I want her. "The old life doesn't taste as good as it used to, does it?"

I glowered at her, biting down a comment about how Sam tastes like other men and STDs. Damn, would've been lovely. "How, by making me sick watching you and Sam cuddle? Really, Casey. You could have sex with him, and I would only feel sorry for you. I mean, who knows where his hands and his mouth, and, well, the rest of him, have been... Or what he's got. After all, I had you first, so what's there to even be jealous about?" I jeered, rolling my eyes at her. She stiffened a bit, and her eyes got darker, but she was remarkably composed. Seriously, she couldn't make my life that miserable.

"Do I **look **like one of your Romantic heroes, Casey?" Actually, I look like a Byronic hero. She told me that, and I'm not really insulted. Byron was a bad-ass. For a poet, at any rate. And, y'know, disturbingly he kinda had a little somethin'-somethin' going down with his sister. Who I think had his kid. Wow. Getting creepily like my life here. "I'm not some tenderhearted emo-ass sap. I don't write gay poetry. I don't do ballet, and I don't sing. Hell, for that matter, I'm not Noel Carrington! I don't speak in flowery words or wear billowing outfits, okay? I have no notions of chivalry, and I'm not a rescuing-type. My name is not Fabio, and I am not sensitive. I am not going to whine and mope and weep, and I am definitely not going to **kill **myself over anything you say or do!" I bellowed, making it clear that she had absolutely no power over me. It's a lopsided fight. I'm giving her an out here, well, kinda...

Casey pursed her lips, fully aware that she could not talk me to the edge, thank you very much. Where's your power now, Miss Priss? "That Edwin rumor is the least of your troubles, Sweetcheeks. When I'm through with you, you'll be an Untouchable, a real social outcast. I don't back down from a challenge," I snarled. Every word off my lips was a promise. If she wants to go there, really go there, then why not let her? Casey's eyes narrowed in rage, and she deliberately started humming "Jesse's Girl."

Our eyes locked, and I saw the corners of her lips twitch upwards. She knew how much that got to me. How pissed it made me. Damn bitch. She walked towards me smoothly, lifting up the hem of her shirt to show me her bruises. I noted with glee the hickies I'd left. One of them happened to fall right at the hem of her skirt so that it was half-showing. "I can show Mom and George these bruises you gave me, and I can tell them about all the things you've done... And I'm sure they'll take care of it. I can even take a few liberties. And, really, who will believe all those rumors you spread about me? Remember, I'm too much of a priss to do any of those things. Being a slut would make me _interesting, _after all, wouldn't it? And everybody knows Sam and I haven't slept together. So, careful, you're losing ground," Casey challenged. I shrugged. Weak, but better than the same old thing.

She had a few good points. I was going to get into trouble. But she would also have to explain how she got those bruises and... I looked up suddenly with realization. "You wouldn't." She's not that much of a bitch, is she? Enough to put me in prison on charges I didn't really even do?

Casey smirked, and I felt sick inside. "I would," She said cockily, steelily, so that I was almost tempted to believe her, but I knew she wouldn't. She wasn't that much of a bitch. Although it would work, and I would at least have to admire it from that standpoint. Confessing what really happened wasn't an option, so she couldn't paint me as the pathetic lover. I suppose she could easily say that I was obsessed with her and she turned me down, but she doesn't have that kind of power. Not to overturn my reputation. Maybe if she had Max behind her, but Sam is no match. And psh, like he'd go against me? There's little evidence to support that anyways, and she'd have to admit that something happened at all. Plus she sucks at lying. She's gotten better lately, though.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Right. Whatever, Slutzilla. If you want a war, you've got it. I'd shake your hand to seal the deal, but I might catch your boyfriend's Herpes. Be sure to remind him to take his Valtrex if you don't want him to spread it to you... or his other, more numerous sexual partners. Watch out for yourself... if you can," I growled, not wanting to put up with her anymore. I let out a short, barking sort of laugh. Stupid ex. Ugh. Ex. I just wanted to end the argument. That last remark sounded like, I don't know, some sort of loathsome compliment or statement of worry. Like I care. She thinks she can take me, then let her. It'll be more successful to watch her fail. "Just remember, _Bitch, _that you have no idea who you're messing with. Best of luck, Sis, but I'm going to be the winner here. And when it's all over, be glad that we haven't wagered on it... because you're clearly going to lose. Nevertheless, let the games begin..." I threatened malevolently, cockily assured of my own inevitable success.

Casey flinched when I called her bitch. Hm, nice to see that something still affects her. Ah, reminds me of earlier. I turned my back on her and was about to call over my shoulder when she surprised me by speaking. That one always has to get the damn last word in. "Careful, He-Bitch. It would do you well to remember that the _effect _works both ways, and generally in my favor." She paused briefly. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you. Especially since you don't have much of one. Yours is nowhere near large enough to facilitate an ego as big as yours. The winner, Himbo, remains to be seen." She means, of course, that she could turn me on painfully and tease me. And the obligatory tiny penis comments. Like she would know? Plus, dude, I've been in the locker room. Like I wouldn't know the truth of matters and who stacks up where? Rather unexpected, though, and thus, impressing.

I snorted dismissively. "Well, it sure was enough for you. Probably would be enough for your boyfriend too, if I asked," I retorted swiftly. I heard Casey's gasp. Yep. Went there, even if the territory is a little uncomfortable. I'll do anything, just about, to win an argument. "Wow, Case, isn't it sad that your boyfriend's more attracted to _me _than he is to you?" I bit back in a mock-innocent voice, throwing the comment over my shoulder. I didn't stick around to hear her shocked, scandalized response. I felt proud of it. It cut right to the quick, and that is what DMV is all about. Especially since I don't give him that time of day, really. Or want him. Or chase after him like a lovesick puppy. After all, he didn't have sex with people who looked like her just 'cause he wanted a piece of the action. Bet the bitch regrets telling me that, now don't you think so? "See ya at home, Prick-Tease!" I said finally before I dashed back towards the library.

I was a bit lightheaded from the fight. Adrenaline was pumping furiously in my veins, but I felt strong. I'd won Round One! Now, time to get dirty. I quickly bypassed our school's filter to hack into MySpace. Casey didn't have one. Bwahaha. It's Lesbian MySpace time, friends. Straight-as-an-arrow-Casey will be appalled. Would bisexual sound better? 'Cause, I mean, then her and Sammo would have something in common... Y'know, I should write these down.

I quickly set up the basics, using an old Yahoo email account of mine, making it so anyone could see, and readily supplying her age, birthday, school, and location. I typed in, well, you know what as her sexual orientation... It makes me smile to think of it. I just barely resisted adding an actual address. That would be messy. I don't think I'll bore you with the details, but I said that she loved sex and was into kinky things and, well, you get the drift...

By the time I was done, the bell had rung, so I quickly logged off MySpace and then the computer. I would put up the pictures later. I had a bunch of pictures of Casey stashed on my computer. Some of them rather risqué, but whatever. I could've taken naked pictures of her, you know, and I didn't. That was classy of me. And besides, this way I wasn't posting kiddie porn. I also had some rather interesting video, although definitely not a sex tape. Rather unfortunate, eh? But I figured I'd have to ask her permission for that.

The school day was generally uneventful. I decided it would be too much trouble to start a new rumor. One a week should do it. The newspaper will come out in a week or two, so I'm sure she'll get charges for that. I single-handedly revived her unflattering nicknames, and, well, that was all I could do at school. Or all I would do. I wanted to lull her into a false sense of confidence and security. Tomorrow I'm going to start getting guys to swear they've slept with Casey and that she sucked. As in was bad, not as in how Sam... Well, actually, both are true for Sam. And I suppose, well... I have a lot of plans in this devious noggin of mine.

That day I actually drove her home like I'm supposed to. We exchanged only glares all the way home, barely maintaining civility once we got inside. Like I said, there's a reason I ignored her. It occurred to me in the silence that I needed to break the one last thing that was keeping me from really getting over Casey: my two and a half weeks of chastity. It was like I was a technical virgin, or, really, just a virgin all over again. I didn't want to lose that special virginity I'd gained by hooking up with some random meaningless slut who won't ever hold a candle to... Well, it's time to pop that cherry. No more celibacy for me.

A sudden idea registered and I hurriedly dialed a number, requesting the presence of a certain lady friend who would be just perfect. "Hey," I began somewhat awkwardly. "It's me. Derek." The voice on the other line was a bit shrill, and definitely annoyed.

"You have a lot of nerve calling here, Venturi, after what happened the last time I saw you."

I nodded, trying to sound as apologetic as I could. I really was kind of apologetic. I sighed. "Yeah, look, I know. I'm sorry about that... if I embarrassed you. I wanted to... Look, I really did. And... the reason I stopped... _totally _wasn't worth it." Okay, so that was a lie. But I do kinda regret what happened. With this girl, not just the Casey fiasco that I'm not thinking about. I paused to suck in a breath. "So... Do you want to come over tonight? The parents are out until late, and the siblings can be easily disposed of. We could have a little fun..." I proposed suggestively.

The girl let out a huffy sigh that reminded me very much of the reason I was doing this in the first place. "Well, that's good to know, Derek," She replied slowly. She paused deliberately. "I'm not seeing anyone right now, and you did show me a good time... And it _does _help that you're a hell of a kisser," She mused, thinking it over. It sounded like I was winning. Or not. However, she paused again, and this time I sensed that she was frowning. "But it's an awfully long way to come..."

I saw my opening. "Oh, trust me, you'll come," I interjected. I heard her scoff over the phoneline.

"Cocky much?" Wow, she really did sound like Casey. She managed a sly laugh though. "But you're probably right..." She added in a lower voice. I could just imagine her, poised with a finger to her lip. "Okay, Venturi, I want to know what kind of deal this is gonna be. I like to go into things with my eyes wide open. So, is this gonna be some one-time thing where you "lose" my number and never call me again, or am I gonna wind up as some booty-callgirl... or what?" She said quite frankly.

I was impressed by this show of assertiveness. But I didn't really know how to answer the question. "Well... I really don't think I could possibly lose your number, especially with you being as hot as you are... So I don't really see it as being a one-time thing. Let's just... see where it goes?" I offered somewhat helplessly, crossing my fingers and hoping she'd agree.

She thought it over a minute. "Okay, Derek. Sounds good. You know how much I love any opportunity to piss Casey off. I'll see you in a couple hours. Oh, and you're totally paying for my bus fare. It's the least you can do," She decided rather bossily.

I nodded. Excellent! I smirked. Oh, trust me, I had plenty of pissing off Casey in mind. "Anything to see you again," I murmured flirtatiously. "I'll be seeing you."

She sounded a little excited, but it was hard to tell from her flat tone. "Yeah. Bye, Derek." Ah, sweet victory. That's ironic, given who I'm seeing, but... I think this will turn out very good. Very productive.

Nora and Dad had this law firm business reception after dinner, and they would be out late, so my guest could easily come and have a little _fun _with me. Nora and Dad wouldn't be home for a while, so I took advantage of the time I had. I crashed on my bed. Someone would come wake me up for dinner, or, at least, to yell at me, and then I could see Casey's humiliation around approximately seven or eight. The perfect dessert. Indeed, my pain-in-the-ass little brother woke me up several hours later, crying "Dinner!" I'll skip over the dinner (Meatloaf), the beginnings of a lecture I got (quite a lot, from both parents), and the simple punishments I was charged with. I had to take Casey's mattress out of her room and to the curb and bring the new one in, among other things.

I patiently reminded them of my concussion and how I wasn't supposed to exert myself. Doctor's orders. Nevertheless, I went upstairs and dragged the mattress out of Casey's room easily. She'd stripped the sheets earlier to clean them. Okay, I did it with a bit of difficulty. It was soaked, predictably, all the way through. I was proud. The "SLUT" was burned in darkly and stood out sharply. It was burned almost the whole way through. I grinned proudly and took the thing out to the curb. Marti interrupted to ask what the word meant, and I referred her to Casey gleefully. I dragged the new mattress in her room, and Casey scurried in to put new sheets on her bed without even so much as a thank-you.

Honestly, by that point, I was a bit worn out, but it was sevenish, so I retired to my recliner to wait for our two guests. Nora and Dad were about to leave when, suddenly, the door rang. Edwin went to answer it. I heard a rather low, raspy voice that could only be a man trying to be a woman. "Hey, Cutie. I'm here to see your big sis, Casey." I grinned gleefully and had to resist dashing to the door to get a look at the (wo)man. Edwin turned to frown at me and called Lizzie down. His voice was full of alarm. He didn't invite the stranger in. A wise move. Then he went to get Casey, who came down the stairs, scowling.

She was arguing with Edwin over who it could possibly be. I took this opportunity to get up and see who was at the door. Predictably, there stood a tranny in all of his/her glory. This was not a classy tranny, but s/he did have glossy red hair that looked real and a somewhat womanly face. S/he had boobs too. "Her" make-up was in loud colors. S/he was wearing bold blue eye shadow that went all the way up to her painted-on comma eyebrows, a little too much blush, and neon pink lipstick that looked as sticky as maple syrup. Being a prostitute, s/he was dressed scantily, wearing a leopard-print mini-skirt, electric purple high-heels, and a flimsy half-see-through tube top that did not cover near enough. S/he had skinny legs because obviously, s/he was a man and guys just have better muscle mass. But he was a bit too mannish.

When s/he saw Casey, he looked excited. Casey's eyes were wide. She eyed the person before her with something like disgust. Probably at the tacky outfit or bad make-up. "You must be Casey. Angel, you're so much prettier than you sounded on the phone! I'm Kassondra!" Casey frowned and was about to say something when Kassondra sauntered up to Casey, eagerly glancing around the house. "So, Baby, where do you want to start things? In the bedroom or do you want to get freaky? I'm up for anything you are," Kassondra asked brightly. Casey's jaw dropped as she suddenly grasped the (wo)man's meaning.

She bit her lip, which was hot. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I think you must have the wrong house," Casey managed awkwardly.

Kassondra shook her head. "Nope, Angel. You repeated it twice on the phone for me, and I wrote it down. I mean, you are Casey McDonald, right?" Kassondra declared cheerily, coming on inside. S/he made sure to show Casey the piece of paper s/he'd written on. It was unmistakably our address. S/he carried with her a large, hideous green purse filled with God-knows-what. S/he paused, glancing around our house as if searching for someone. "Angel, where's your Sammy?" S/he questioned, still peering about.

Casey frowned and proceeded to freak out. "Sam, as in my _boyfriend_, Sam?!" Kassondra nodded distractedly and walked further into the house. Casey followed her, and Edwin shrugged and shut the door. "_He _called you?" Casey demanded, starting to sound a bit hysterical. See, she thought Sam had regressed to his old habits, you see.

Kassondra frowned and shook "her" head. "No, Angel. Of course not. You did. Don't you remember?" At Casey's clearly clueless (but relieved) look, Kassondra went on. S/he gave her a look like s/he thought she was crazy. I had a feeling I was going to get into trouble, so I leaned against the wall and just watched. "You said to come all the way up here... And you told me the whole story about Sam, and I just remember how tragic it was. But you said that if that was what made him happy, then you were more than willing to try it. With me _and _with him. So I'm just wondering where he is so we can get the party started, Casey," Kassondra exclaimed quite sweetly.

Casey turned pink, realizing what this stranger knew and what s/he expected of her. Then she turned to me, likely realizing who had done this to her. Her glare spoke more than words could express. "I'm sorry," She replied in a detached voice, "but you must be mistaken. I never said anything like that." She never would, either. Kassondra got a bit pissed at that, since she obviously thought she'd heard her on the phone, so they argued for a bit.

Casey frowned, pursing her lips. Then she nodded calmly, shooing the children away and ordering them to see our parents off, who not only were still in the house but had witnessed the entire scene. I know, pure genius, right? She turned back to Kassondra, flinching and pulling away when Kassondra touched her. Then she looked over at me, smiling sweetly. She practically ran over to me, throwing herself on me, to get away from Kassondra. "Okay," She said tightly. She licked her lips and looked at me before turning back to Kassondra. "But he goes first. Seeing the two of you together would be a huge turn-on for me, and well, he can see the two of us together after he's already been satisfied once. Then we'll _all _be together," Casey declared bossily, in a tone that made it sound like she was actually considering it.

Damn it. Assertive, considering-a-threesome Casey is hot (even though I knew it was all just an act). Just... damn.

She smiled at me sweetly, pressing me to her side for a moment. It was sorta nice. She smelled really good. Then she gestured at me, smacking me in the chest. "This is Sam, my boyfriend," She lied smoothly. You know, I never thought she'd call me that again, much less in front of anyone else, but I never imagined she'd do it in this situation. Touché, Case. She leaned in closer towards Kassondra, and said in a clear, conspiratorial whisper, "He likes to suck." So like her real boyfriend. She winked at Kassondra and abruptly pushed me towards her/him. "He's all yours." I practically fell into Kassondra.

However, as usual, Case made the mistake of underestimating her enemy. I snatched her arm back. "Case, _you _called her. To service _you_," I rejoined with a grin smile. "Now I want to see some servicing!" I thrust her towards Kassondra. Eventually, however, we both maneuvered out of her company, and Kassondra left very frustrated and confused. That, of course, is a story for another day. I did, however, slip her some of Edwin's money. A twenty and another one for gas. It was worth it for how flustered Casey got, and there would definitely be questions from the 'rents. Casey was absolutely humiliated and furious, especially when the kids asked about it.

By that point, my lovely guest was going to be there soon, so I sent Marti to stay the night at a friend's house, and had the kids run off to an ice cream joint. Casey, well, screw her. Not in the fun way. Meh. I think she was doing laundry. I went and put on some fresh cologne, cleaned myself up a bit, adjusted my hair to look better for her. And then the doorbell ring. I made sure Casey didn't answer it because I didn't want her to know who was going to be my first post-break-up screw. Besides, I had secret plans to annoy her with it anyways. So I dashed to the door, opening it to reveal the beautiful Victoria, my hot step-cousin. Yeah, I know. You're thinking I really have a thing for people I'm related to. Not true, or else I would've moved on to my little brother's main squeeze, although I am also not a pedophile.

Victoria's perfect, though. Gorgeous face, smoking body, and more of a match for me than Casey had ever been. I mean, okay, so she's a stone-cold bitch, but hell, Casey makes her look good! And that's another thing... This is really all about Casey. It's so she can't hold this over my head anymore. But I chose Vicky because Casey hates her, and Vicky looks like Casey's twin. It's easier to pretend like this. I mean, I'm sure she's also great in bed, and she's kind of easy... Plus she's really hot, although I don't think she'd sleep with me if she knew about me and Casey, but whatever...

Victoria smiled and walked right up to me, hands on her hips. She checked me out three times before grinning slowly and taking another step towards me. "Lookin' good, Derek," She murmured, putting a hand on my arm. "Have you been working out?" She squeezed my bicep, and I nodded. Victoria smiled. "Good. I like that. You'll have to flex for me sometime," She murmured flirtatiously, eying me shamelessly. She looked very pleased with what she saw. I smiled back at her my most charming smile.

"You're _so _hot, Victoria," I practically panted, taking in the skintight red dress that was so alien from something Casey would wear. She threw her coat on the coach, smiling at me lopsidedly. I wanted to tell her a lot of things, like the fact that I meant it, that I wasn't just saying it... And that I really wasn't just doing this because of Casey. I leaned in close to her as if drinking her in from head to toe. My eyes passed over her hungrily, lingering on her legs, her thighs, her breasts, her lips, and then, finally, her eyes. I let out a deep breath, more than pleased by what I saw. I had to bite back the crude thing I was going to say.

But then I realized that Vicky was not Casey. Vicky actually liked me... enough. She's not Casey. So I said exactly what I was thinking. "I want to tear off all your clothes and take you right now," I practically growled, licking my lips. I meant it too. Victoria's eyes darkened, but a pleased little grin played on her lips. I couldn't remember ever wanting someone so bad or so desperately. It was so bad that it was... I mean, I'd had moments like this with Casey, but they were generally never moments where having sex with her was an option. That was back when she hated me, you know, but before she slept with me. Victoria leaned in, fingering my collar.

"I'd like that," She whispered. "But not on that ugly couch or this floor." And there's the snob in her. Casey, who is ten million times more prissy, was not so picky. In fact, she let me do that on both the couch and the floor. And my recliner and the stairs and the landing, and up against the wall in the hallway (and the one in the foyer in the same spot as...), and in the shower, and against the sink twice, and on the kitchen counter, and against the front door, and on the dining room table, and on top of the washer and then the dryer, and in her room, and in my bed, and on the stairs up to the attic... And one time in the car. Wow, I should really not think about that. Or else I might let slip the wrong name, and then no one's getting off.

Her lips brushed against my ear. There was even a brief flick of tongue. "Tell me more." A woman who liked to be in charge. Well, that was... not as much of a change as I was hoping for. Reminded me of my relationship with Casey. I guess that's just what I get for hitting on her cousin.

I gave her what she asked for, as I always do. After all, I aim to please, and my aim is always spot-on. I don't remember what I said to her, but I remember breathing every dirty thing I wanted to do to her in her ear. My words traveled down her neck and made her shiver. She swallowed hard periodically, when I said something really good, something she really liked. I crushed her in my arms, capturing her. I trailed my arms down her sides, pulling her closer, rubbing up against her.

Vicky purred in my ear, "How's your stamina?" Her voice wasn't near husky enough, I decided. She still sounded far too in control. I made it my mission to distract her. I pressed a soft kiss to her throat before answering.

"I practice hockey four hours a day... I could go all night," I muttered hoarsely. My lips found their way further down her neck, and I nipped lightly at the flesh there. She tasted good, like some sweet, flowery perfume and something salty. Vicky moaned when I found a particularly sensitive spot.

She exhaled heavily. "Oh, that feels good, Derek... Do it again," Vicky begged breathlessly. I smiled against her skin for a minute before doing as she asked. Her fingers dug into my hair, hard, messing it up. Her fingernails were sharp as knives and painted blood red. Her eyes fluttered open as my lips moved over her collarbone in rapid succession, pressing butterfly kisses against her skin. "How..." I increased the pressure, licking and kissing my way down to her cleavage. I was already groping around for buttons or zippers. The next word died on her lips, but I knew what it was. Long? Hard? Big? Much? Doesn't take much admiration.

"I'm a hockey player," I pointed out dimly. "I've got a big stick." Take that innuendo as you will. And yes, I know I sound like a bad porno. Do you really think I care? I pushed Victoria's dress down a little and sucked harder, snapping hungrily at her skin. She tasted too good to be true... or mine. I felt her shudder in pain and pulled back hastily. "I need you, Victoria," I managed pleadingly. Her eyes locked with mine, and her knees buckled as I attacked her lips ravenously. Victoria, the hardest girl I knew, was weak in the knees. She nodded briefly, digging her nails in the back of my neck, tugging on my hair.

In one fluid motion, I picked her up bridal-style and started to carry her up the stairs. We remained attached at the lips. She was so light and so soft that it took everything I had to climb the damn things. My eyes were half-closed. She really knew what she was doing. She was one hell of a good kisser, but I knew that already. She was better at everything than Casey. Already her hands were slipping under my shirt. But it wasn't the same.

I forced my eyes open and found Casey's room. I quickly pushed open the door, kicking it closed behind me but making sure it wasn't locked. I set Victoria down, needing to catch my breath. Victoria glanced around Casey's room, eying it with distaste. She frowned at me. "Why are we in Casey's room?" She questioned, wiping off her smeared lipstick. She sounded almost a little suspicious, but I didn't care. "I thought we were going to..." She let the sentence end there, fixing me with a look.

I shrugged. "You said you wanted to piss her off, and so do I. Here's our opportunity," I explained, gesturing to Casey's bed. White sheets. How frickin' typical! I just want to mess them up, ruin her damn perfection one more time. I smiled at Vicky seductively, patting the bed. "It's a brand new mattress. Don't you want to break it in?" I replied suggestively. I didn't bother to wipe the lipstick off my mouth. With all luck, Casey would walk in on us. Vicky looked interested in this plan, so I motioned once again to the bed hopefully. "Christen it with me?" I implored flirtatiously, desperately wanting her to do it.

Vicky smirked just like I would. Anything to piss Casey off was what she was thinking. I agreed wholeheartedly. She cozied up to me, practically flying at me, but I maneuvered it so I was on top. We both kicked off our shoes before attacking and stripping each other in a frenzy. Her hands found the hem of my t-shirt and ripped it off before sliding snakelike down to my waist to fumble with my belt buckle. Her dress, I found, had no zipper, so I pushed it up millimeter by millimeter. Her fast, dexterous fingers unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulling them down far enough so that I could kick them off. Then she put her arms up and I pulled the dress over her head, peeling it away from her skin, revealing skimpy lingerie.

Guess who knows Victoria's Secret now?

And what a good secret it was. I stared at her for a good moment before desire overcame me, and I was unable to hold back. I hurled myself back against her in earnest, unsnapping the clasps of her bra so quickly I almost ripped them off. My hands tugged the straps down, peeling it from her skin. I wanted to get closer, to feel her soft, supple skin on mine. I'd missed the human contact. Victoria gasped when I started kissing my way across her chest. She sat up for a moment, forcing me to pause for a moment while she pulled the sheets over us.

I was surprised at the show of modesty, but I suppose she didn't want her cousin to walk in on her all uncovered. I kissed and licked my way down her stomach. Vicky sighed, pulling me closer, pressing me against her. Her nails left angry red trails on my back. I deftly removed her underwear, tossing the lacy thong behind me. I was aiming for Casey's desk. Vicky jerked my boxers down and off, chucking them to the side. Then she wrapped her legs around my waist, and thoughts were no longer an option.

She was good, like a pro. A thousand times better than Casey. But not Casey. Enough about that bitch, though, okay? Enough.

We were just starting to get into it when... I was in full stride, and Vicky was shaking, practically levitating off the bed. She started out whispering my name, but as the rhythm sped up, her cries got louder. I heard some vague noise behind us, a sort of creak, but I ignored it. Victoria's eyes were closed, her skin sticky with sweat. I heard a soft gasp, but I figured it was just Vicky.

"DER-EK! What the hell are you doing in my bed, banging some slut?" Casey shrieked, sounding absolutely horrified. You answered your own question there. Idiot. I was annoyed but not turned off. Victoria, however, was. The noises died on her lips. She ceased to move, lying beneath me limply. She tried to hide under the covers, but I turned back to see Casey scowling at me over my shoulder. I scowled at her before plastering on the classic obnoxious smirk.

"Oh, Sis, I think that much was obvious. I was getting laid. Do you have a problem with that?" I countered bluntly, feeling rather irritated. Of course she wrecks my chances. Of course. Bitch. Casey glowered at me, walking towards me. A look of disgust passed over her face. Like I care.

I scowled right back. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, considering it's _my _bed and _my _room, and I walked in on you screwing some random whore. You've probably contaminated it!" Casey growled, sounding positively appalled. Victoria was strangely silent. I was surprised. It wasn't like her to hide. She wasn't known for her modesty anyways. But, seriously, was she just going to lie there and let Casey call her a slut?

"Not the first whore to be screwed in this room, Case," I retorted warningly, eying her disparagingly. I almost said not the first whore I've screwed in this room. Lucky for her I didn't, isn't it? I frowned at her. "Do you mind, Bitch? I have something to finish here," I snapped irately, turning back to Vicky, wanting her to leave the room so I could get the pent-up tension and energy out of me. All I want to do is get off. Casey refused to budge, and I turned abruptly to face her again, pissed off. "Don't just stand there staring and watching, Casey. Either go or join in. I don't care, but either way, I'm going to get of... get what I want," I interjected bluntly. I knew she'd never go for that, but I was hoping she'd leave. Vicky shifted in discomfort, and I could tell she wasn't happy with me propositioning her cousin while I was still inside of her. I, however, was too frustrated to care. "Now."

Casey huffed but refused to leave. I gave her a suggestive look which she rebuffed with an icy glance. Nope, still painfully turned on here. "What about your little lady of the night, Derek? She sure hasn't shown her face yet. Is it because she's really a he, or because she's got her lips around a certain part of your anatomy?" Casey quipped nastily. Oh, she's one to talk, isn't she? Victoria, of course, took that as an affront. She became angry and saw no point in preserving the illusion of modesty or her cousin's respect (neither of which I ever thought she cared about). She sat up a little and immediately turned to stare at Casey fiercely, showing no signs of the mortification that had possessed her before.

If it was possible, Casey looked even more horrified. "Vicky?" She gasped, absolutely stunned. I grinned smugly.

Victoria rolled her eyes and managed a tight smile. "The one and only, Cuz," She managed icily. "And it's _Victoria_," She corrected nastily. I grinned at Victoria. I loved the nasty side of her. Reminded me of Casey the Bitch only Victoria's nice to me. Casey looked pale, like she was going to seriously throw up. I felt gleeful at the prospect. With the Cheshire Cat grin glued to Vicky's face, I'd say she shared the same sentiments.

Casey shook her head in disbelief. We stayed there in that awkward silence for a few moments before Casey found her voice. And I do mean awkward, since I was still inside of her cousin. She avoided looking at us. _Us, _not me. She immediately sent _me _a powerful, hateful glare. "Get off my cousin, you bastard," She ordered in a voice that was very level. Her tone was serious. I disobeyed her purposefully, protecting Vicky and my own self-interest.

She refused to back down from a fight, as did I. Victoria just looked annoyed since Casey had ruined it for her. "No," I proclaimed defiantly, not budging from the spot. If I want to ride her cou... mount her cousin, then I'll damn well do it! Casey reached out to snatch my arm, and I dodged her grip expertly. Vicky, who was growing increasingly irritated, chose that moment to intervene.

"Look, Casey, just go away. Derek and I have some... unfinished business."

Casey snorted. "More like unfinished orgasm." Witty, Case. Vicky raised an eyebrow, leaning up on an elbow. My ex... I mean, Casey... crossed her arms over her chest. She got that determined glint in her eyes again. "I am not about to let you have sex in my room. I **will **get you to go, and I don't care if I have to rip the sheets off the bed and throw you out myself!" Casey vowed. She glared at me so viciously that I actually thought she was going to do as she said. Vicky, who was a little apprehensive about the thing, attempted to pull away.

I stopped her by placing my hands on her shoulders. I fixed her with an intense look. I would've kissed her too, but Casey was there, and, as I was fully aware... still watching us. Not that I didn't get a perverse kick out of that, mind you, but Victoria definitely wasn't into it. Sure, Casey was family, but that didn't mean she wanted her to see her having sex. I just didn't care because I live to piss her off, and, hell, I've already been with Casey. So I turned over my shoulder to face Casey once again. "What, Casey, is someone jealous?" I retorted mockingly. Vicky was understandably not amused and attempted to pull the sheets up to cover everything.

I thought it was a legitimate question. After all, it would've been her in bed with me two weeks ago. I thought my suggestive tone was definitely warranted. Casey turned just the slightest bit paler, but her rage increased drastically. Casey rolled her eyes at me. "No, actually, Derek. I do not want to be in Vicky's place, as unbelievable as that is to you," Casey practically spat, making it perfectly clear that she was not at all jealous. I shot her a dirty look though and barely managed to resist patting the bed. Funny, 'cause you were in her place. Two weeks ago. Casey's lips tightened. "I just want you to get the hell out of my bed before I have to call George and tell him that his son his screwing his cousin," She snarled rather maliciously.

Victoria sat up at that, clutching the sheets around her chest. I was surprised to notice that she looked somewhat worried. However, she also looked offended, probably because that cousin remark made her sound so white trash. I jumped to defend her. "It's step-cousin, and you'd know that better than anyone, now wouldn't you, Casey?" I rejoined bitterly. Casey turned about twelve shades paler this time, and, well, that sure shut her up. Victoria placed her hand on my chest softly, looking confused. I couldn't exactly blame her, but I ignored her silent inquiries all the same.

What happened was between Casey and me. Just us and not Vicky. It's my cross to bear. I focused my stare on Casey, knowing I could make her capitulate. Besides, she should be happy that I'm screwing someone else instead of bothering her. She frowned at me in distaste, looking slightly green. "Besides, Sis, you forget how much I know about you and what you've been doing lately. Blackmail is a two-way street. So, if you want your dirty little secret... your _mistake, _I believe you called it... to remain a secret, then you'd better get the hell out," I snapped poisonously. And I always win, Case. You should get used to that.

If it was possible, Casey turned even paler. She knew I had her there, and it was almost sad, really, how petrified she was of the fact that she screwed me getting out. Still, Casey gave me a fierce look, a look that said: I know what you're doing, Derek. I know that you're just in bed with my cousin because she looks like me. And it's not going to work because she isn't the real thing. Screwing her won't make you forget. Yeah, I know... A lot to communicate with one look. Casey slowly turned on her heel. "You can starch your sheets later, Slutzilla," I called out victoriously after her. I glanced over at a smirking Victoria, who was pleased at how I'd put Casey in her place.

Hell, so was I. Victory tastes so much sweeter than defeat. "Someday, you know, you'll have to tell me what you have on her," She whispered, giggling a little. Fat chance. Then you'll never sleep with me again.

Casey walked to the door stiffly, shooting us one final, condemning look. "Whore-ick and Icky Vicky. A match made in heaven," She quipped disgustedly, shaking her head silently before locking the door behind her. I snorted. Wow, original, Case.

Alone at last. "We might as well start back up again." That was all the encouragement Vicky needed to be all over me, muttering about how hot that was. So I kissed her again, harder, and she let me do everything I wanted, but I couldn't forget that stupid look in Casey's eyes. And the resemblance between them really didn't help. Because that look was right about at least one thing. No matter how hard I try and pretend otherwise, she's not the real thing. And by virtue of that alone, nothing I did with her could ever be quite satisfying enough.

Because she's not Casey.

Loren ;

Reviews are seriously appreciated, friends!


	24. Underneath

Okay, this chapter is longer than intended, and sorry it took so long to come up with it, but it was just this mess, and I was so blocked and so hating it, but I got it done. I knew this chapter was going to be boring and uninteresting for me, and a lot of it had to be forced, but I did spice it up a little for you readers, still not sure about that, but you'll definitely think Derek is an asshole after all of this.

But it picks up again after next chapter, which is gonna be interesting, and I should be able to write it faster. The end's approaching! I'm not making much sense, sorry, but I kinda wanna go to sleep again. Anyways, reviews are good and, uh, wow, can't think of anything else to say.

Oh, by the way, I've got a new Life with Derek fic going called Strange Attractors, so if you like Lizzie and Edwin, go check it out. It's all about those two, and, I dunno, I think it's really good, better than this... There's a lot of tension. But I'm biased, so ignore me.

I don't own Life with Derek, obviously, or anything else mentioned within this chapter that is a brand name or pop culture thing, etcetera...

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"Then untie me, and I'll inspire you some more."

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I guess you could say that things have gotten ugly between me and Derek. That, is, of course, a massive understatement. We're just short of strangling each other, really. Things have gotten downright nasty... Derek goes places no one should. Whatever you consider bad, he takes it a step further. He gets right down in the dirt and rolls around and hits even lower.

And everyone's noticed it. Technically Derek's supposed to be grounded at home, 24-7, no friends, no going out, no hockey, no TV, no computer, no phone, no fun, no girlfriends. His life is supposed to be work, coaching the little kids, homework, school, and thinking about what he's done. He's supposed to apologize. That's one of the conditions. They'll end the grounding, they say, if he apologizes.

But, being Derek Venturi, he flouts those rules. Because he is the exception to every rule and every last law of nature.

He doesn't come home at all, hardly. Partially because he can't bear to see me, I'm sure, and partially because he doesn't want to face their punishment. Mom and George don't even know where he is most of the time, and Derek's all but moved out. Honestly, I think it relieves them a little, not having to deal with him. They're secretly very glad that he's not here to ruin their perfect little family. Because they've noticed more than anyone just how bad it's gotten lately. We can't even be in the same room without fighting, and Derek doesn't heed their warnings about language or innuendo unless Marti's standing right next to him. And that pisses me off because he gets no punishment for what he's done to me. None whatsoever.

It's always something, too, and Mom and George just don't care. It's like they expect me to get over it or something. Well, I'm not. I'm not just going to forget or accept my fate. Lizzie and Edwin are just downright scared. They practically walk around clutching each other, eying us warily. Even Marti knows what's up. She cries at night sometimes, and more than once I've heard her ask Derek why he was being so mean to me.

Derek always tells her the same thing. First he explains. "Casey and I got in a big fight and we both said a lot of awful things to each other. Cruel things, unforgivable things." She asks what the fight was about then, and why can't we just make up? "It was about hurting each other. And she _hurt _me, Marti." Marti gets a little confused then and asks what I said or something like that. Derek doesn't say, but I guess she reads the look on his face and just... knows. So then she'll apologize to Derek and ask him where it hurts, and if she can kiss it and make it better. She does, or at least she tries to. Then Marti asks him why he's so mean again, why he does what he does. "Because I can't do anything else, Marti. I can't forgive her, and I can't forget what she did."

So that's how I know he still has a heart.

He stays out late at night all the time now. We almost never see him, and if he does come in, it's when everyone's asleep and only to crash. I hear he's back to his old ways, only with even more energy. If you can believe that. Full force, full throttle. He's a legend, a fixture at every party, and if he wasn't on top before, he definitely is now. He's never had more power. He's at the top of his game. Any party that's worth going to... he's there. If he's not there, he's out clubbing or whatever. If it's not that, it's either a girl or hockey.

He's back to his womanizing ways, too, and it's as if he was never monogamous or celibate. I didn't think he could get worse, you know, but somehow he managed to pull it off. Technically, he's "dating" Vicky. She's the one he brings over all the time. Because he knows how much it pisses me off, and so does she. But she doesn't know why or anything. He's obviously just using her to get to me. And because she looks like me. And that, well, that makes me sick.

However, Vicky lives in Toronto, which means that Derek is free to do as he pleases here. I think they have an agreement of some sort. And Derek sees a lot of girls here. He's had more one-night stands than I'd like to remember. Ew, that sounds... not right. I mean, he brings a few of them home, but he mostly does them in his car or at these parties or in the janitor's closet at school or, I don't know, at wherever they live. A lot of them nowadays are slutty college girls. I swear he cruises the quad of UWO looking for the sluttiest ones he can find and then butters them up with a few drinks and sleazy flattery.

But he's always careful to be careful, never forgets the condom. So I've heard. Still, it's a wonder he doesn't have a baby mama, really. He brings Vicky back here a lot, though. More than all the others. When he does have a girl over, though, he makes sure to bang her against my wall or somewhere where I'll inevitably have to see it. Vicky he takes to my bed. Or my desk or God knows where else. I'm practically afraid to go in my room lately. I never know what he's touched. Ugh, the thought of his seminal fluids all over my room. Disgusting. I can't believe I actually used to-

He's back to drinking and smoking, too. Drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney. And he always reeks of it. He never looks hungover, though. His eyes somehow aren't bloodshot, his cheeks aren't puffy; there aren't dark circles under his eyes. Well, he has a little of that going, and he looks a bit paler, I guess, but he's somehow stronger for it. He likes to smoke in my room and spray his cologne in there and do all sorts of things in there. Hell, he probably jacks off in my bedroom. He sure gets off on being in it. And my bedroom _always _smells like him. It's unbearable.

But I guess I should say what else he's done, right? Oh, Derek's done just about every awful thing you could imagine, I'm sure. He revived the Grub nickname for starters. But he doesn't mean it like that. He says it like a worm in that utterly repulsive way. He's torn up some of my favorite clothing, stole my clothes during gym class... He had one of his lackeys write SLUT on my locker. I always know it's him. He got me in trouble for putting dirty poems in the newspaper that I didn't write. The poem began something like this: One day I met a yellow duck/He was a beast who really liked to.../So he rode me hard... I'm sure you can get the gist of that. Implied bestiality and all. Who knew Derek was a poet? Obviously not a good one, given his reliance on rhyming couplets.

He set off fireworks in front of my door. When I was sleeping. The black marks are still on the floor. The carpet burned. It still smells horrible, and Derek hasn't replaced it yet. And then there's the rumors... He said that I made pornos. Using our younger siblings and the various boys I'd apparently whored around with. What's up with the incest theme, Derek? Then he had all these guys on the hockey team and the football team, any team you can imagine, one or two at a time so it wouldn't be suspicious, spread rumors saying they slept with me. And, they added new and interesting ways in which I was awful in bed.

I'm not going to lie... Coming from Derek, that hurt. Because he, of all people, would know. He's the only one who would. So hearing it come from him, even second-hand, hurts me. It's like he thinks it, and then I wonder if it's really true, and I don't know. I can't ask him anyway. The guys, they embellish. Each one gives me a new fetish. One said I have a foot fetish. Another that I like watching porn. Another still said I'm into S&M. And then there was one who said I had a schoolgirl/teacher roleplaying thing. So many things that they're impossible. One said I'm into girls. It doesn't help that Derek started up that lesbian MySpace for me.

He strikes so suddenly, silently, easily... It's mind-boggling. Like, okay, today I was just innocently walking in the hallway. This totally creepy guy who looks way too old to go here, you know, in that creepy foreign way, walks up to me. He held out his arms, and, to my horror, came too close. "Casey, baby, I hear you're easy..." I shoved the guy away from me violently. First off, what the hell kind of pick-up line is that? Not even a backhanded compliment.

"Well, you heard wrong. Besides, even if I was easy... I'd still have standards," I snapped back irritably. Standards this clown wouldn't meet, like, for instance, basic hygiene, an interesting personality, and, you know, not being so repellent that I can't even stand to look at him. I'm not the village bicycle, contrary to what Derek's been spewing. Everybody does not get a turn... or a ride. I swear, I am a scumbag magnet nowadays. I'm not quite sure if Derek actually pays people to do this to me or just tells them too. The creepy guy's face fell.

"But Derek told me that you'd say yes," He whined. As if that's a reason I'd do it? Ugh. He's what, trying to pimp out his stepsister? I rolled my eyes at him and kept walking. The idiot followed.

"If I wasn't already rejecting you, _that_ would've been enough to make me start." My hatred for Derek was well-established throughout the school. I didn't bother to look back, but the idiot kept following, no matter how much I tried to increase my pace. "Besides, you can't trust a word Derek says. He's the biggest liar in school. So do us both a favor and stop listening to my asinine stepbrother. You're wasting your time here!" I snarled. Unbelievably, the freak had the nerve to touch me.

If I had the skills, I would've judo-chopped him. Instead I whirled around and wrenched my arm out of his grip. "Who do you think you are? I've been pretty clear about how I feel. I don't want you or your indecent proposal. I can't spell it out any further than that. In fact, I have a boyfriend, and he could just as easily rearrange your organs if you don't leave me alone!" I retorted threateningly. I shot him a look, an icy smile passing over my face. "And where do you think he would start?"

Yeah, buddy, just try me! Needless to say, the fool clutched his groin and ran off. As he was supposed to. I allowed myself a satisfied smile as I jetted off to English class. I arrived just in time and assumed my typical seat at the front. I glanced back and saw Derek smirking at me, eyes already narrowed, but I didn't mind it. The hate I'd felt before bubbled up in me, stronger than before. Oh, I wanted to get even in a small way, and I was going to get it today. Our teacher smiled at me specifically, and I smiled back eagerly. "So, yesterday I gave you the assignment of writing a poem for our slam poetry contest. As you know, slam poetry is a much more elemental response, more fluid and flexible, often more emotional and personal to the poet. It is a way of confronting the issues that plague us most... That being said, some of you are now going to read your poetry for the class. Any volunteers?" She explained, keeping her eyes peeled.

Naturally, my hand shot into the air. First as always. I heard the familiar scoff behind me and pointedly ignored it. I was going to make him wish he was dead. The teacher smiled down at me beatifically. "Casey, then? It's always a treat to hear your work. Please, do go ahead." I took my paper out of the folder and sashayed on up to the front, holding my head up high. Sure, I heard the soft coughs of "slut" and catcalls and murmurings ("grub", "teacher's pet", "keener"), but I ignored those too. I can't keep letting them... letting HIM... get to me.

I stood in front of the podium confidently. "I hate you," I said loudly and dramatically, finding Derek's face in the back quickly. My eyes narrowed as I pushed on. "But hate's not a strong enough word to... Properly express my emotions." I paused, glancing up to gauge his irritation. Not near annoyed enough yet, but he will be. "My _revulsion_ for your sweet devotions," I snarled. Derek stiffened then and shifted in his chair. The smirk had fallen from his face. I continued, "So I _loathe_ you then, maybe that'll be strong enough to get my point across." I was careful to enunciate my words, staring the whole room down, not just Derek.

All of them who thought so little of me. I was furious. I felt the fury in me building, pulsing. "It's not just dislike, not just mistrust," I chanted, reinforcing my hatred. "It's me fundamentally _despising_ your very guts," I drawled, feeling the rhythm. I spat out the poison like it was nothing, briefly glancing at my teacher's astonished face. Apparently my passion had taken her by surprise. Indeed, everyone was eying me with intrigue. I swallowed over my the lump in my throat, the disgusted lump in my throat as I looked at him. "I get **sick** when I look at you," I spat, feeling quite ill just staring at him.

Every time I look at him, I remember all the injustices, all the pranks, all the bitterness, all the indignities. It all played in my mind like a bad film. Again and again. The next words I spoke, I spoke with an intense revulsion. "Because I can't help but remember the things you made me do... I can't get over the feeling of your hands on my bare skin. Makes me wanna tear it all off and turn it inside out again!" I growled, feeling my stomach flip-turn. I felt nauseous. A little dizzy too. It was like all the rage I'd felt for all his many sins had bubbled up inside me like soda pop, and I was about to explode. But I forced myself to keep looking at him. Forced myself to hold it all together. "The very sight of you makes my stomach turn... My insides become outsides and everything's reversed."

And I was still confused too. "Seeing your face takes me back in time... Back to a day when I was yours and you were mine." I frowned at those lines briefly. They sounded almost nostalgic, and the look on Derek's face changed a bit. Whereas before it had been a straight-out I-wish-I-was-never-born-look, now it was less of that, confusion, and some other emotions there mingling on his face. "But I never said I wanted to go back in time," I amended smoothly, grinning that cutting smile, like a shark's grin before devouring its prey. "Your heart may be broken, but your soul is black," I emphasized with an almost mocking lilt to my voice.

I shook my head and launched into the lecture bit. "Don't tell me you love me when you spit words of hate. No matter what you say 'bout you and me, it _wasn't_ fate. Don't say I've _broken_ you when you were **busted** before... Don't come in my room drunk, begging for me to give you more," I ordered in a matter-of-fact voice, telling him off. Derek had this perfect look on his face, almost heartbroken all over again. You're not getting any more of me. This time there was no disguising the mockery in my voice. Broken him? I've broken him? Yeah, right. I wanted to smile, but it would've ruined the tone of the poem.

"And I hate the way you leave your smell all over my room... When you're in my bed, banging your new whore..." A.k.a. My dear sweet cousin, Vicky. Derek actually did smirk at that. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, almost like he was proud of that. "You always leave me with an impending sense of gloom." And then it was gone. I felt like laughing victoriously. "Don't sing my praises and whine about my faults. If you really loved me, you'd love me _for_ 'em, not without," I decreed saucily. Derek's face darkened at that, as if I'd dealt him the greatest insult. But no, I was saving that for later.

The next part was harder for me because it was a different emotion than the rage that had previously dominated the poem. It was me acknowledging that yes, I had done wrong by him. But that didn't give him the right to be an asshole. He knew what he was getting into. "I'm sorry for the way that I treated you," I said with a barely-managed sincerity. I had tried so hard to keep the bitterness and snappy hatred out of my voice because I wanted to snarl the words mockingly like I didn't mean them because I didn't want to, but I had to do it this way because deep down I meant the veiled apology. I shrugged coolly. "Yeah, I may have led you on, and I don't feel the same way... But that doesn't give you permission to treat me as you do," I conceded, turning it on him viciously.

My eyes hardened. There were no traces left in me of any mercy for him. He'd long ago exhausted that and my patience. He needs to do the mature thing and just get the hell over it. He's already gotten his revenge on me like, a hundred-fold by this point. He's just being petty. But I guess his motto is: "Don't get mad. Get even." I rolled my eyes and proceeded. "You call me bad names and talk smack to your friends... But _I _know that you're just a jealous, hurt _small_ little boy again," I countered, being sure to rub that burn in. He was acting small, like a little boy, and he was obviously being ruled by his jealousy. I briefly spared glances on the others before returning my stare to him once more.

It is funny that Derek and I had never really met eyes during this confrontation, but that was soon to be a thing of the past. I wasn't really searching out his gaze since it still made me physically ill to look at him for too long. "All you know how to do is fight back... With below-the-belt words and underhanded attacks. What you need to do is drop the subterfuge. Stop plotting away, 'cause _you'll_ only lose," I lectured, indicting him. Stubbornness, however, gleamed in Derek's eyes, and I knew he wasn't going to let down. Not even for a minute. He wasn't really gaining anything by ruining my life, after all, just some petty sense of satisfaction that was fleeting and wouldn't make him really any happier.

"Just be true, be you, be real," I said even though I hated that verse and accordingly refused to look at Derek while uttering that particular verse. It was uttered in a hasty, half-unsure tone, skimmed over. I hurried to the next one. "What you need to do is learn how to feel," I stated bluntly, glancing up to look at him. Our eyes finally locked and began an intense showdown. For a second I wondered if anyone else noticed where I was staring, but the wall was behind him too... "Go ahead and cry, it won't make you weaker," I sniped bitterly. Because you're already plenty weak as it is, D. "But don't keep fighting on for a _hopeless_ cause." I made a point to emphasize hopeless to remind him that he didn't have a snowball's chance.

A look of naked pain flashed across his eyes, but I looked past it, ignored it. It didn't concern me. "'Cause I'm not _yours_ to be won, and I **won't** be," I promised in a voice that sounded much more tough than I really was. "Not by you, 'cause I see through you... And you're just one big fat **fraud**," I finished with a bang, watching in satisfaction as Derek's eyes got darker. He seethed silently and broke the staring contest. I really was victorious. Then I turned to the teacher and smiled sunnily. She got the hint that I was done and rose from her chair, quickly closing her jaw and motioning for me to sit down. She was too stunned to offer praise or advice, but I didn't care. I also didn't care about the curious stares. Let them gaze! They were meant to look, after all.

The teacher sort of looked stumped for a moment before quickly getting up to her feet. "Any other volunteers?" No one was foolish enough to raise their hands after that. So, my teacher, getting desperate, decided to take the option of picking victims instead. A few people afterwards awkwardly shuffled through their forgettable, boring poems. And then she decided to play with fire and try to make an example out of someone. She peered around the room imperiously before her finger stopped, and she pointed at one person in particular. "Derek Venturi! I'm sure you have something remarkable to share with us this day. That is, if you remembered to do the assignment." Her voice took on the harsh tone of a lecture I rarely heard used against Derek.

He was normally too charming to be reproached, so I appreciated her taking a stand with him this time. Derek merely rolled his eyes casually, bored. "Unlike some people, my keener stepsister and yourself included, I have better things to do with my time than write dumb poetry," He replied coolly, shooting me a dirty look. I glowered back at him, and the teacher became enraged. Her face flooded with color, but, oddly, instead of giving Derek a detention outright, she recognized his insult for what it really was... a distraction... and ultimately decided that forcing him to speak would be the worst punishment she could inflict upon him.

Too bad. Another disciplinary problem could've done him in. "While I'm sure your vast list of extracurriculars, Derek, which as far as I can tell consists of a barbarian sport and maintaining your loyal harem and centralizing your power through your popularity... is more than enough for most people, I disagree with you. Poetry is not dumb, as you so ineloquently put it. It is a craft and a very undervalued and unappreciated art form, perhaps one too complex for you to properly understand and appreciate. It's also a lot harder than you seem to think, so, Derek, I say, why don't you give it a try and see how you like it?" My teacher challenged him surprisingly insultingly.

The Walking Phallus cocked an eyebrow, surprised she'd had the nerve to issue a challenge to him outright. "I don't have to try it to know I don't like it," He responded immediately, scoffing immediately.

Our teacher laughed briefly, smiling sweetly, and we were all almost convinced that she'd given in to Derek's charm. "Oh, but you will. You see, when I said you could give it a try, I meant that you would. Obviously you have no other option, and, wow, don't you need to pass this class in order to graduate at some point, Mister Venturi? So you'll either do it or **flunk**," She informed him bluntly, relishing her position of power over him. I looked over at Derek and felt uncomfortable. She had all but said that he was doing poorly in the class, had practically called him out in public. It seemed unethical. Sure, I'd done the same thing, but anonymously. She might as well have said, "You don't want to have to retake another grade, now do you?"

Basically the woman set him up for a task she knew he'd fail at, and, judging by Derek's grim smile, he knew that too. Nevertheless, he's never been one to back down, so he rose up slowly and headed nonchalantly to the front of the class, as if she hadn't just strong-armed him into it. He looked at the teacher scathingly. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I've lost my paper... So I'm just gonna wing it. You can pick some nice little dork to write what I dictate, okay? Like Casey," Derek told her bossily, making it clear that once again he was back in charge. I scowled at him, but the teacher merely shrugged and motioned for me to do as he had bid.

I too glowered at the bitch and then at Derek, but I got out my pen and paper as dictated. Derek cleared his throat, leaning forward. It looked like he was about to speak. Then, just as abruptly, he pulled back and turned to the teacher. I could've sworn he looked nervous for a minute, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. "It doesn't have to rhyme, does it?" The teacher rolled her eyes and told him that it didn't, but he stopped her before she could get into a tangent about free-verse.

He leaned forward once again, holding on to the sides of the podium. He looked as if he would've rather spoken into a microphone and held on to that, but he stared the room down diligently, determinedly, making the rounds before his eyes finally settled on me. "I hate whores," He began in a staccato voice, smirking just slightly. I froze and the whole class sort of gasped, but the teacher, intrigued, motioned for him to go on. He just shrugged and played it off all cool. "I know a whore," He added a moment later, eyes still on me, still smirking.

I shut my eyes, but my unwilling hands wrote the words I hated nonetheless. "But every other male in the county knows her, so I'm hardly unique." I opened my eyes to narrow slits. There he was, grinning back at me like he'd won. He offered me a wink so fast I could've blinked and missed it before sending his eyes elsewhere. "And for a time she was sweet. She was the sweetest taste I'd ever known..." Derek reflected, eyes closed. His voice sounded almost far away, huskier, appreciative even. But then the illusion ended just as quickly as it began when his eyes shot back open. He leaned on the podium casually, as if he was talking to a friend. "You see, she wasn't a whore when I met her. She was a just regular girl. Your typical, regular, average, boring girl. A prude, even. Wouldn't even open her legs for her boyfriend. But then she met me, and I _changed_ all that for her. I mean, I **really** shook up this girl's world. I rocked the boat, rocked and rolled her all night long, broke her down completely," Derek elaborated coolly, weaving the web deeper.

He grinned lazily, staring off into space dimly. "Her transformation was a thing of beauty. A source of pride for myself, of course. Of my _ultimate_ triumph. This girl, she'd had principles and beliefs and this irrational hatred of me, and all of that was just erased, and I was victorious. Like always. She'd tried to resist me, but of course she couldn't help but give in, just like all the others. I'm _irresistible," _He declared dramatically, fluttering his eyelashes. Our professor clearly didn't approve of the theatrical performance, but there's no stopping Derek in one of his moods. Every word was torture. There were some giggles throughout the classroom. I wanted to fade into the floor, even though no one knew he was talking about me. God, he's such an asshole!

Besides, as he would say, resistance is futile. Isn't that the truth?

Naturally, he continued on in the way he was going. "And, ooh, I had her wrapped around my finger, begging me for sex, doing my every whim. It was a pretty sweet deal. I'm not gonna lie. But then she branched out. I guess I'd really awakened the nympho in her or something, and she wanted more. She wanted control, wanted other guys in the picture who didn't even measure up. She completely didn't appreciate what I'd given her. So I dropped her like yesterday's news. And now everyone sees her for the whore she is," Derek drawled, scowling a bit as he thought of me. I seethed and burned at his words, wanting to spit at him. He had an interesting meter too, a strange, lilting tone, but I didn't think of that. I couldn't.

Not when I wanted to murder him. It was all such a lie. "I know a whore. And so do you. In fact-" Derek said, returning to his refrain, suddenly changing his mind. I stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified. He had stolen what was supposed to be my triumph and turned it against me in the worst way. But apparently revealing who I was was even too low and bad for him, so he stopped cold. People were hanging on his every word, waiting for him to name names, and it sickened me. Derek sobered up a bit. "And I _loved_ a whore once upon a time. But now I realize that she was just a phase and a mistake. A disposable, replaceable phase I've gotten over. So, like I said... I hate whores. Especially that bitch," Derek proclaimed, ending it with a bang far bigger than anything I'd achieved. I flinched as if he'd hit me.

Disposable, replaceable, cheap, used... The adjectives flashed in my mind.

I wanted nothing more than to run right out of the class, but I couldn't. "Well, that certainly was... interesting, Derek," Our teacher responded, pausing briefly, a concerned look on her face. "Even if your misogynistic undertones disturb me, that's still the most emotion I've ever seen you show," She conceded. She looked, however, thoroughly disturbed and asked me for the paper a moment later. I handed it to her, and Derek and I exchanged a heated glare. He made it clear he'd won, and I merely hung my head, defeated. How could I possibly get even with that, when he has so much of the school's support?

And then it hit me. Easy. Through Sam. I've got the influence of his best friend, after all, and that's nothing to spit at. And no matter what he says, I can still get... to the heart of things. But, more specifically, _his_ heart. I've had it with being treated like dirt! And I'm supposed to be okay with it?! Well, it's **not** okay, and I tried to do this without reducing myself to his level, but clearly that's not enough! I have to play dirty and hit below the belt like he does. I'm not just going to take this lying down anymore!

The rest of the class was awkward. There was a tension in the air, an unusual one, and I could tell everyone felt it. It was radiating off of Derek, for sure, but no one could tell where it was directed. Except me. People were even giving Derek strange sideways glances, and I relished it. Ever the autocrat, Derek squashed the glances with a well-aimed glare. Naturally, I had no sooner walked out of the classroom than Derek took me aside, dragging me over to the lockers. I was uncomfortably pinned up against it, as is his style now. "You and I need to talk, Peaches," He demanded, glowering at me.

I rolled my eyes. Like I'm seriously going to go anywhere? You're blocking my way. I kinda don't have a choice. "What do you want to talk about _now_, Derek? Your shriveled up heart? Besides, isn't talking in public a little too classy for you? You're all about underhandedness nowadays," I retorted irritably, trying to push him away. But Derek had me caged in there, forced to be close to him. He let out a low chuckle, and I felt his breath hot on my face. I endeavored to turn my head away from him, but he only moved in closer.

"You don't like me being close to you, do you, Casey?" I snorted. Well, of course not! You're like a damn stalker! I swear, if he's trying to make me say I'm affected or publicly molest me again... Why would I like him being close to me? "Makes you come all unglued," He continued smugly. Gee, I wonder why?! Maybe because you're invading my personal bubble!

I struggled to no avail to get away from him, but his grip was like steel. "Of _course_ I don't like it, Derek. I **hate** you. Your proximity repulses me. So don't get all excited that you've got me squirming, okay? It doesn't mean I'm into it or anything. It just means that I want to get away from you before I become physically ill," I snapped somewhat more irately. I looked down to see if biting his hand was a plausible or possible option but came to no concrete conclusion. However, I felt a tiny bit victorious when I felt him stiffen, or, as I prefer to say it, flinch.

He let out a dark little laugh, a tight one. "The last time I recall you squirming beneath me was ridiculously amazing, so I think I have the right to get excited. And don't pull that repulsion line, okay, because you sure as hell aren't half as repulsed by me as you like to think you are," He countered perversely. The smarmy smile on his face was proof he remembered it. I almost shuddered to think of it. Ridiculously amazing, huh? Then why did he spread it around that I suck in bed, huh? And, God, why on earth am I thinking about this? Have I completely lost my mind? Like I'm ever gonna do that again. Derek grinned and leaned in close to my face. "You still remember the things I did to you," He breathed. "Still think about them," He intoned slyly.

Scowling, I roughly pushed him away, idly wondering why none of the onlookers... most of whom were scurrying to class and leaving us there like our confrontational tactics were completely commonplace... did anything. "Yes, Derek, you're right. I remember how you tortured me. I remember how you molested me. I remember how you forced yourself on me. And I sure as hell remember the many ways in which you've tried to ruin my life!" I hissed back mockingly, lip curling upward into a scowl. He came back at me and I shoved him back stubbornly, standing my ground. "And I'm not about to let you win, Derek!" I declared, turning on my heel and attempting to flee.

Derek chased after me, irritated because we hadn't spoken. I just wanted to get to class. Why does he insist on bothering me? It can't kill him that much to see me with Sam. I've even tried to make sure he doesn't see us together. Unless he pisses me off really bad. Then I'm everywhere. But I'm nowhere as bad to him as he is to me. It's not like I even really let Sam do anything. I think I've made out with him once, and I haven't really kissed him much... A couple times I've been on top of Sam kissing his neck (which confuses him since I freeze whenever he tries to touch me), and Sam and I are sometimes sickeningly sweet around Derek (but mostly by accident). I haven't fooled around with him or anything, though. Just kissing and dates and stuff. Derek doesn't even know when I go out with Sam because he's usually never around or... busy.

Something that's weird, though, is how Derek's actually extended practices and dragged Sam to parties or out for guy's nights just so we can't spend time together. It's really annoying, for someone who doesn't even really regard him as a real friend. Then again, I guess it's not that weird. Derek's relentless. "We're not done yet!" Derek shouted, grabbing my arm in a way that hinted at bruises beneath my skin. Bruised muscle was worst of all. Fortunately for me, at that very moment, Sam came by with a puzzled look on his face.

"D, what are you doing?" There was genuine confusion in his voice. Sometimes I really wish Sam wasn't so dense, but then he'd know about everything, and he wouldn't look at me the same. And maybe he'd expect me to sleep with him too. I'd really just prefer to forget it all happened. I want to go back into time where Derek still saw me as his annoying sister. At Sam's words, Derek crossly dropped my arm. I rubbed my sore arm, scowling at him.

"Just having a friendly argument with Case about whose turn it is to watch Marti tonight," Derek lied easily. For just a moment I wondered if maybe there wasn't a grain of truth to this. After all, Mom and George were leaving for a couple hours, ironically to visit Harry and Fiona. Ostensibly, I assumed this had less to do with a mutual desire to see each other or play games or whatever it is older couples do, and that it was more about either their marital problems or Derek and Vicki dating. Mom and George aren't _that_ oblivious. Out of respect for my cousin, I refrained from telling them that Derek and Vicki were sleeping together. So watching Marti was a real problem, and I knew Derek was gonna bellyache his way out of it, per usual.

See, Mom and George are foolish enough to assign the job to us collectively in the hopes that it would, I don't know, make us get along better. They didn't realize just how explosive a situation they just created. So Derek and I, of course, would have to work out a schedule. I don't mind watching Marti, just as long as he doesn't get out of the work, doesn't bother me, and I don't have to see him. I rolled my eyes at Derek. "My mom and your dad delegated the task to both of us, Derek. So why don't we just take shifts like mature adults?" I proposed through clenched teeth, attempting civility. It was harder than anticipated.

Derek shook his head stubbornly. He smiled smugly. "I think you should go it alone, Case. I've got things to do tonight." He said it as if he was a king, and I should automatically do as he instructed. I rolled my eyes at him, disgusted. I hated that stupid nickname of his for me. I never gave him the right to call me that. Besides, I knew he didn't have plans with Vicki. Vicki couldn't get out of the family dinner. She was probably going to get the second degree about seeing Derek, all manner of warnings and advice and maybe even some counseling for her own role in their marital struggles. Which meant that Derek was either partying or screwing some other girl. The two were hardly exclusive, but they did have a sort of relationship.

Fat chance, Dereka. "She's _your_ baby sister, Derek, and you're the one who'd do anything for her. You don't get to weasel your way out of it this time. So unless you have something meaningful to do, like homework or coaching hockey for the kiddies, you're not getting out of it. And you're definitely not getting out of it to bring more whores back to our house, so cool it, Prostidude. You can go without sex for one night, Whore-ick," I pointed out icily, making sure that I wouldn't lose any ground. Sam frowned at me, not approving of my talk about Derek, but what the hell does he know? If he knew what kind of friend Derek _really_ was, he wouldn't be so damn sympathetic...

He sighed, though, knowing he couldn't argue against that. His sister needs him, and, for whatever reason, she loves him. Probably because he treats her with kindness. So he just grunted, nodded, and left. Sam turned to me, arm outstretched, to escort me to class. He's becoming more gentlemanly too. Of course, immediately he lapsed into an argument about how I shouldn't say things like that about Derek because he really was very nice and always there for him. I fought the urge to tell him that he was the one making my life a living hell. After all, don't want to implicate myself.

Soon enough after, I went straight home from school. I was innocently writing poetry, trying to get all my frustration out while waiting for Marti and the kids to come home, and then, suddenly, there he was. By he, I mean Derek. Because who else is that much of a creep? I screamed bloody murder, but apparently our neighbors and neighborhood watch suck, 'cause no one called the police. I wish they had. Derek was snickering, circling my chair. I eyed him warily, slamming my computer shut. He always did like it when I directed my full attention to him. "What do you want, Derek?" I asked sharply.

Naturally, he smirked. I wanted to smack myself in the head. Wasn't that obvious? Well, he's not gonna get it! I scowled at him. Derek shrugged. "Just wanted to say hi to my favorite stepsis, that's all. I'd watch my back if I were you," Derek advised casually. What? Like I haven't been watching my back for the past two weeks? If he's gonna do something bad to me, why the hell bother warning me?! He made me want to scream sometimes, really. And then, before I could grab him and pummel him or anything, Derek left my room. "I'll be down at the rink 'til seven. You better have something ready when I get back," He called over his shoulder.

It was a surreal moment. Derek was being an asshole and generally weird, but some sort of stability had been achieved. In a way, we were sort of working together. I was still pissed about him ordering me around, though. Obviously I would've had to cook for myself and the kids anyways, but him expecting me to cook for him when he's been nothing but a bastard to me lately? That just, ugh, sent me over the edge. So I decided I was making a casserole. Tofu. Which Derek hates. 'Course Marti and Ed aren't too fond of it either, but they can deal. I'll take them out for ice cream too. On Derek's dime. Ah, I love these little sabotages.

Dimly hearing the front door slam, meaning Derek was probably gone, I went downstairs somewhat nervously. Coast was clear. I headed to the kitchen and began to mindlessly prepare a tofu casserole and sides. I spared a look at the clock, judging that Liz and Ed would be home sometime soon. Sure enough, they were, and an hour or so later Mom showed up with Marti. George got home around five, and the two kissed us all goodbye, promising they'd be home sometime around eleven. They'd call if they were going to be any later than that. Then they were gone, and I sat down to watch cartoons with the kids for a while.

We had dinner at six, and, despite the faces Edwin and Marti made, managed to finish what was on their plates. I told them to do their homework, promising them ice cream afterwards, and then set about to doing my own homework. An hour or so later, Derek still wasn't home, so I grabbed some money from his stash and took the kids to ice cream. We walked since that bastard had the car, but the kids were pleased enough, so I tried not to mind. Nevertheless, I may have left a few abusive messages on his answering machine.

"Derek, where the hell are you? You said you were going to be home at seven! I needed the car! I swear to God, you better not be out whoring around, or I will personally come find you and drag you home so Mom and George can deal with you! You're not getting out of watching them, Derek. They're more your siblings than mine, you know. Anyways, I took the kids out for ice cream. We'll be back soon. There's a casserole in the fridge for when you're hungry, and, remember, I will kill you with my own two hands if you bail on me tonight. You better be home soon, and without one of your "guests". You will not have sex when the kids are home, you hear me, Derek!?"

Poor Liz had to go upstairs some nights. I made her because Derek was so erratic lately. And, believe me, that was hard to explain. Of course I didn't want to tell my sister the ugly truth that Derek usually came home when he did, in fact, come home, anywhere from buzzed to partially drunk to completely wasted. I have a duty to protect her from any possible danger, you know! Who knew what Derek was and wasn't capable of nowadays? Besides, her room was just across the hall from his... And what if he walked into the wrong room late one night? Heaven forbid the thought! She'd probably only be scarred for life. Sometimes I'd have to bed down with her because I couldn't sleep in my own room, and well, that was even harder to explain. I couldn't very well say, well, sorry, Liz, but I can't sleep in my own room because Derek's having sex in there with our cousin. Or because his semen is probably everywhere, and I don't know what's clean anymore, so I boil and starch my sheets, and even that's not enough.

No, one cannot tell one's little sister this.

When we finally arrived back at home, there was Derek, loafing on the couch, watching a hockey game, and looking none-too-amused. Obviously he'd gotten my message. I let a smile light up my face, feeling somewhat pleased with the situation. Edwin and Lizzie dashed upstairs to play videogames or something on Edwin's computer. Since Marti was covered in chocolate, I told her to head off to the bathroom. I moved to follow her, but Derek grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. He turned his head around to address Marti. "Hey, Marti, why don't you go in and get started? Casey and I need to have a little chat. She'll be there in a minute or two," He yelled over his shoulder.

I scowled at Derek, but Marti merely nodded and followed his orders. She's too obedient for her own good. Derek watched her enter the bathroom and shut the door. As soon as she did so, he dropped my hand as if it burned. I rubbed my wrist. It felt bruised, like he was always bruising it. Then his eyes darkened further. He spoke before I could say a word. "Don't threaten me, Casey. You're in no position to threaten me. It's almost like you don't know who you're messing with. I would think you'd know by this point that I'm not one to be trifled with. Do you get me, Case?" Derek said in a low, gravelly, menacing voice.

By this point, I would think he'd know that I'm not about to take it lying down. "No!" I retorted defiantly. I stalked away from him some so he couldn't grab me. "I've had it with you! I'm sick of you! I'm fed up with your insults, your fake endearments, your scheming, and your attempts at ruining my life. I'm not going to let you blackmail me anymore! You're not going to make me miserable, Derek! I **refuse** to let you destroy me!" I shouted stubbornly, swearing him off with my eyes. He looked positively murderous, but I wanted to kill him too, so I didn't really care.

I shook my head, letting out a sigh. "I get it, okay? So I broke your heart, and I'm sorry for that, Derek, but you know I don't feel the same. We broke up. Get over it, Derek. It's been almost a month, and what you're doing isn't helping anyone!" I snapped back, but with a bit more reservation than I would've had in the past. I was careful to avoid saying outright that I didn't love him. I knew my words were blunt, but I would achieve nothing by being cruel, and, besides, that wasn't really my goal. Being cruel to him would only perpetuate the vicious cycle. All I really wanted to do was make him stop before I lost my mind. I just wanted him to let me forget in peace.

Derek was seething. I saw the rage written in every feature of his face, and I knew he'd taken it wrong. He didn't think I was sorry at all. Who was he to be mad about that? If he really loved me, he'd respect my wishes! He just wants to own me, and he's mad that he can't! For once in his life, he can't get what he wants, and he doesn't know what the hell to do about it because I don't want him! He shook his head irritably, stiff, getting up slowly from his chair. "It's cute that you still think you have any power over me, Casey. Like you have the power to stand up to me. To make me stop. _You_ started it, Casey, but now you want out. Well, too bad, because you have to finish it out. You knew what you were getting into, Buttercup, but you had no idea who you were dealing with. I'll stop when I want to stop, Casey, and you won't be able to do a thing about it. So you better handle the consequences 'cause I'm only the monster _you_ created," Derek snarled, walking towards me.

But he's wrong. I am not Doctor Victor Frankenstein. I did not create that person, that stranger stalking towards me. Funny, isn't it, how it all comes back to the Shelleys? He was coming closer and closer, and that worried me. I held my head high and tried to avoid taking a step back. I swallowed hard and mustered up all my bravado. "What are you trying to accomplish, Derek? Is this supposed to be revenge? You wanna make me suffer like I made you suffer, is that it? Is this supposed to make me come back to you? It's **never** gonna happen, Derek! I don't want to be with you, Derek! Just accept it already!" I rejoined hastily, almost mockingly. I tried to be as non-hostile as I could. There were far crueler words I could've said, words he would've deserved. But I wasn't like him.

Eying me like a snake, Derek came perilously close to me. I forced myself to resist the urge to move backward. He wasn't going to corner me. Couldn't Derek be mature and just let it go? He practically growled, taking another step closer until he made me really uncomfortable. I was restless, almost squirming, and Derek knew it. "I'm only giving you what you asked for, Case. What you deserve." His voice was husky, and he leaned in a little bit closer to my skin, so that his lips practically brushed against my face. I turned away instinctively, and then, upon seeing his victorious grin, I shoved him away forcefully, charging over to him.

Shaking my head at him, I stared him down. "You're not going to blackmail me anymore, Derek. And you know why? Because you're not really going to tell them either. And if you do, Derek, I'll deny it, and they'll believe me because how would they have not noticed their son and their daughter screwing under their own roof?" I countered viciously. Two can play this game. Derek looked rather surprised for a moment, almost impressed.

Then he scoffed. "Yeah, right. You're a terrible liar, Casey, and you don't scare me."

Bad move, D. "We hate each other, Derek. Casey McDonald would never have sex with Derek Venturi. And you've lost a lot of creditability around this house lately. In case you've forgotten, I learned lying from _you_, and you sure taught me well. So I'll tell them that you've lost your mind or say you're on drugs or that you're obsessed with me. Which you are. Maybe then they'll finally give you the help you deserve or else ship you off to rehab or therapy," I cut in brutally, spelling it out for him in bold letters. Derek's jaw tightened, but he still didn't believe me.

Boy, I mean business, get me? "But why would I lie about something if there was no reason for me to gain from it? You forget, Casey, that I know things about you that no one else does. I know every freckle, every birthmark, every scar. I know the way you smell, how your skin tastes, how your tongue feels, every tone of your voice. I know too much, Casey. It's the details that will be your downfall," Derek returned stiffly. At first he sounded bored, but his voice quickly picked up intensity. I shuddered all over, realizing that what he said was true. Derek smirked and moved a little closer, running his hand down my side. "I know how you taste, how you kiss. I know what turns you on. I know how to make you moan. I know how to _satisfy_ you. And I know the look on your face when you c-" He continued, taunting me, eying me sleazily. I grimaced.

"See! _Obsessed_!" I interrupted loudly, feeling weak in the knees and deeply disturbed. My skin crawled with the memory. I shoved his hand away with a slap and tore myself away, clearing my throat and trying to regain my sanity. "And that's what I'll tell them. I'll tell them you took advantage of me. You drugged me, got me drunk, and then you had your way with me against my will. Repeatedly. I'll say you overpowered me, that you threatened me, that you forced me to do it. That you were drunk and cruel, and that you hurt me and **tore** away a piece of me every time you invaded my body. And I'll tell them all of the things you did to me afterward, of the cruelty you're capable of... C'mon, Derek, who's really going to believe you over me? And then you'll be lucky not to wind up in prison," I declared fiercely. It wasn't the first time I'd threatened him with that, but it was the first time I'd meant it.

Derek paled, but he didn't say I wouldn't. I was too descriptive. It was then that I knew I'd won. He didn't say anything right away, and I knew he wasn't going to say a damn word. But he was so darkly furious, I knew there would be retribution. Not that I cared. "We both know it didn't happen that way, Gumdrop," Derek quipped finally. I rolled my eyes. Didn't matter. He's not the only one who can lie. He coughed and then snorted, trying to regain the cool he'd lost. Suddenly he seemed a whole lot less scary. "Well, Princess, you don't want anyone to know, so you're not going to tell them your little doctored version of events under pain of death. So I can and _will_ bury you, Casey. You ain't seen nothing yet... When I'm through with you, you'll be so miserable you wish you were dead," He snarled, easily sounding unbalanced and menacing.

"I am **no** **one's** rebound guy," He thundered before I could even say a word to counter him. It was strange, because I hadn't even brought that up, not for a long time. But then I rolled my eyes and leaned in a little.

"Except mine, you mean?" I retorted nastily, confirming exactly what he said. I knew it was a weak spot for him, but he had scared me. I had to keep my defenses up and my wits about me. And, damn it, I was going to best him someday. Derek looked like he wanted to throw me, but he barely managed to restrain himself from doing so.

"_No one's_, you hear me?" He barked back equally hostilely. "You'll pay, believe me, Casey," He swore. I rolled my eyes and stalked off to the bathroom, where a messy Marti was waiting for me. She'd made a mess of things, as usual. Nevertheless, I helped her tidy up and then passed her off to Derek, since it was his turn to watch her. I'd given him a schedule and made that very clear, so I retreated upstairs to do my homework.

However, I found myself surprisingly more tired than I'd anticipated, so I decided to settle down for a little nap. I set my alarm for an hour and then closed my eyes. I'd finished most of my homework by this point anyways.

When I came to approximately thirty minutes later, I found that I was cold and I couldn't move my arms. At first I thought it was some terrible dream, but I opened my eyes to see Derek smirking down at me. He was tying one of my feet to the bed, grinning like a maniac. I struggled to move my arms and turned, noticing that they were tied to my bedposts. It hurt to move them. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was muzzled. Predictably Derek had tied a bandanna or sock or something over my mouth. I was louder than he'd intended, though, because he didn't take the extra step of sticking something in my mouth. As Derek reached over to tie my other leg to the bed, I twisted my body as far as I could to explosively kick him in the balls.

My kick hit home, and Derek practically fell over, clutching himself. I relished his pain. I struggled with my foot to loosen the lies he'd just completed on the first one without much success. Even if I had managed to free my feet, what could I really do other than kick him? I waited with baited breath for him to get up and try again. My muscles became tense as he groaned and got back up, clutching the board at the base of my bed. Naturally, I immediately swiped at his head with my foot, but he ducked so I missed him. He grimaced, gritting his teeth, obviously still in pain, but he moved back and managed to stand up properly.

I tried to kick him again, but Derek lunged forward like a tiger or something and snatched my foot with both hands, holding it securely as he tied it to the bedframe. I hated him for that. I was laid out spread-eagled on my bed, which wasn't even remotely comfortable. I attempted to scream at the top of my lungs, hoping that someone would hear me and come to stop this madman. Mom and Dad wouldn't be home too late, I knew, so Derek couldn't keep me like this forever, but he had me basically at his mercy, and I just knew he was going to force me to do something I didn't want to do. He really was no better than the rapist I could make him. When he was finished, Derek had the nerve to keep on smirking. He walked over to me and ran his finger down my cheek. I wanted to vomit.

"Told you I'd get you back, Casey." His voice was chilling. I shivered involuntarily and jerked my head away from him. He merely grabbed my face and jerked my head back, forcing me to face him. I suddenly realized that it wasn't just him making my blood run cold. I was freezing, and, squinting and squirming, it hit me. I was wearing only my underwear. Derek had taken my clothes off while I was out, and I hadn't noticed? I shot him a questioning yet panicked glance. He seemed to read my mind, a fact which disturbed me even more. "What, Casey, you don't remember how gentle I can be when I want to be?"

Who knew his touch was that light, huh? To his credit, at least I was still wearing my bra. With my hands positioned the way they were, it'd be near impossible for him to remove it. It was, however, extremely possible and easy for him to molest me. Derek continued to smirk and walked across the room, locking the already shut door, making my position even more hopeless. He bent down to retrieve his video camera, and I was flooded with horror, instinctively knowing what he was going to do. That smirk will be the death of me.

All too familiarly, Derek strolled up to me and placed his hand on my stomach. I wriggled away from his touch, recoiling at the unpleasant sensation. He repulsed me immensely. But Derek just laughed and reached over further. I couldn't move too much. "Now, now, Casey... Relax. We're just going to put on a little play. As an actress, you have to play your part... And if you don't do it properly, you're gonna piss off your director. I don't know if you've noticed, Sparkles, but I'm not too nice or gentle when I get pissed off, and then I'm much less likely to make it good for you," Derek lectured creepily. I stared at him wide-eyed and horrified. Oh, yep. He's definitely gone off the deep end.

Wait... Is he gonna rape me or something? I know he's going to do something I don't like against my will, but what? Make it good for me? I mean, even Derek's not that psychotic, right? He wouldn't hurt me on purpose, would he? Physically, I mean. He wouldn't, right? 'Cause I totally didn't mean all that I said and... Oh, God, what's he going to do to me?! I was stock still, petrified, and that made Derek smile. "Good girl, Casey." He trailed his fingers down my cheek. I flinched, and he frowned. Apparently not so good, eh? What does he want, a trained dog? Derek smirked suddenly, moving his fingers down, over my throat, my chest, my bra, down my stomach, over my bellybutton... until I was short of breath and scared witless. "Relax, Baby," He said, adopting a soothing voice.

He patted my stomach almost affectionately. I felt sick. Derek leaned in, grinning madly at me. "Don't worry, Casey. I'm not that type of guy. I don't get off on domination." I wanted to spit in his face. It was so obviously a lie. I glowered at him as fiercely as I could. Couldn't do much else. Derek shook his head, that crazy smile still stretched from ear to ear. "Nah. It's really not about me this time. This, my pet, is all about _you_. I'm just going to videotape your reaction. I won't even use both hands, and, if you behave right, like I think you will, I might not even have to touch your bare skin... It'll be tasteful, I promise... and if you... open yourself up to it, I think you'll really enjoy it. Just don't hold back, Case. If you're really good, I might remove your gag," Derek coaxed. There was a breezy, almost seductive tone to his voice, like he wanted to convince me to go along with it.

Not that I was going to. Hinted threats and promises nonwithstanding (if, indeed, they could be trusted at all), I knew exactly what he had in mind. The edited-up video would doubtlessly be disseminated around school, played off as a porno. He wanted to feel me up, basically, and record my reaction. Doubtlessly he pictured something very vocal... Since he thought he knew how to please m-a woman. But it's not pleasing if it's sexual assault, friends, and I wasn't about to just lie back and enjoy it. I knew the terms he'd given me to accept. Just one hand, his body not smothering me, him not inside of me, his hand not even on my bare skin, trying to make me... embarrass myself with my panties not even off. He wanted to make me look like a desperate, kinky slut, and he thought I'd be responsive to his touch.

Fat chance of that happening, Derek. Thinking fast, I decided to play along for a bit and trick him into thinking I was fully complicit until I was able to get free. I'd destroy the tape immediately afterwards. So I made a noise that would certainly be muffled as Derek trailed a finger down my side. He smiled. "Do you like that, Case?" I made sure to nod vigorously, and Derek looked surprised and, more importantly, contemplative. "I didn't think you'd respond so fast... Do you want me to touch you more?" He asked, watching me expectantly. I nodded again, pretending to be excited, even smiling. Derek reached down and untied the gag. "How 'bout I let you tell me what you want me to do to you?" He suggested flirtatiously.

For a moment I debated whether or not I should scream, but I decided that the risk of my poor siblings walking in on this would definitely be a scarring experience, so I'd have to get free on my own, by playing along. "Okay," I said, adopting a husky tone and stretching deliberately, like a cat. "I want to feel your hands on my stomach," I rasped, making my eyes dangerously half-lidded. I could use Derek's libido against him. I couldn't believe he was so easily persuaded. But he held back, and I thought he'd doubted me, even though I'd passed the first test.

He wanted something different instead. "Say my name," He commanded. His eyes said he'd do it just as soon as I said it, like a magic spell or something. For once, I was obedient.

"Derek." I made sure to enunciate, and Derek did as I asked. "I want to feel your lips on my collarbone, but don't leave a mark... Derek," I ordered a moment later, well aware that I was sucking him in. Once again, he did as I asked, hands trailing up unbidden. My skin felt prickly and unpleasant, but I threw my head back and pretended to enjoy it. "Oh, Derek... No one knows how to turn me on like you do," I practically moaned, giving myself a bit of creditability. I sounded especially breathless and wanton. Derek used his tongue more, clearly hot for me. He wanted me bad, so I arched my body against his as best as I could, as much as I was willing to do. Down his hands went over my stomach, hopping over ribs and circling my bellybutton.

"Put your hands on my hips, Derek." It was so easy, but it was hard not to be repulsed by him. It was hard not to remember the old days, but all he'd done to me just boiled up inside into a hot ball of hatred and made me that much more determined and impassive. "No one touches me like you do, Derek." A few insincere blandishments in a whorey voice would do. I let out a breathy sigh. "Derek, I wanna touch you," I murmured in a low voice, adding a key of desperation. He froze a little, and I continued, this time in a whiny, demanding voice. "I _need _you. I want to touch you so bad... Oh, please, Derek, just let me..." I was purring like a kitten to get what I wanted from him.

His fingers came down to touch me, and then I froze. This is exactly what I didn't want. Trying to keep the panic out of my voice, I let out a wheeze. "Derek, don't... That's not fair! You get to touch me all you want, and I can't lay a single finger on you. _Please_, Derek," I practically begged, bucking my hips against him particularly hard. This time he gave in to his desire and reached up and untied my wrist. By this time I'd noticed that one of the knots he'd tied on my feet was loose, so I kicked every now and then to loosen it further. Once I had my hand free, I buried it in Derek's hair, trailed it down his back, acted very much like I appreciated it. I grabbed his ass to startle him, and it worked.

Sliding my hand slowly off of him, I redoubled my efforts of buckling and twisting my hips, pressing into him. I bit his ear lightly, apologizing. "Sorry. It's just so hard with my legs spread wide like this..." He groaned, and I took advantage of his distraction, thrusting my hips at a torturously slow, hard pace while I untied my other hand blindly. Derek pressed hot kisses to my cleavage, reaching around the back of me to undo my bra. I surrendered that and let him do it. He was muttering things about feeling me, a concept I didn't even want to think of.

And then my other hand was free. I brought the hand he'd untied down, burying my fingers in his hair, and I moved my leg up to lean against his side, bringing him even further against me. Derek sighed somewhat blissfully. I tried pulling my other foot free to no avail, camouflaging it as a thrusting motion, and I finally decided, as he was kissing his way up my neck, to take matters into my own hands. I slipped my free leg underneath him, and, a moment later, kneed him in the groin, grabbed him with both hands, and threw him off the bed. He landed on the floor with a loud thump, and I shot up immediately and started frantically untying the knots on my foot. I knew I didn't have much time.

He would get up soon, and he would know that I'd been playing him, so it was all important that my fingers didn't struggle. Sure enough, Derek got up less than a minute later and practically lunged for me. I found it strange that he said nothing. Nevertheless, I was prepared, so I knocked my arm into his stomach, shoving him back with the palm of my fist. I resumed my knot-untying, and I was about halfway done when he came at me again. I struck out at him with my foot, which a prepared Derek grabbed with a grim smile. The position I was in, one leg twisted over the other, restrained to my bed, was certainly uncomfortable, but I'm a dancer, so it didn't bother me that much. I struggled with relative futility, still fiddling with the knots.

After all, since he had my foot grasped firmly in both hands, he didn't have one to grab my hands and make me stop. Derek was just in the middle of transitioning to do that when I managed to finally free myself. As soon as the rope came off my foot, my leg swept out to kick him in the groin, causing him to drop my other leg and clutch his groin. I leapt up, shoving him backwards and down, and dashed out of my room, racing down the stairs.

For some reason, I ran to the kitchen, fastening my bra behind me haphazardly, aware that I was playing a dangerous game with Derek... and Derek _always_ wins. I needed to hide, so my eagle eyes were peeled for the first nook or cranny I could fit into. That was when I saw it. Marti was lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the head. At first I was just so stunned and horrified that I couldn't say anything, but next thing I knew I'd snapped out of it, and I was screaming Derek's name at the top of my lungs. It was a bloodcurdling scream, one that scared me so much I didn't even realize it was coming out of me until it was later and my throat was sore.

Almost immediately, I snatched the phone and ran to Marti, hitting the floor hard. My fumbling fingers found her wrist and felt for a pulse. She had one, and I was so incredibly relieved that I didn't even think about the phone in my hand for a minute. I remembered the CPR training they'd taught us in school and lightly slapped her cheeks, calling her name. She didn't respond, but she was breathing, at least. Then I remembered the phone and dialed 911, my back against the cold wood of the counter. "Hello? This is 911. What's the emergency?" The operator was so calm and collected whereas I thought I was going to lose it.

Hell, I was still all hot and bothered from fighting with Derek. I swallowed hard, staring at Marti, hoping she'd wake up soon. "It's my stepsister... I think... I think she fell and hit her head. She's bleeding, and she's unconscious... I think she needs an ambulance," I stammered, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. I waited with bated breath for the operator's advice.

"What's your name?" She asked instead. I was so frustrated. What did that matter? They should have my address by now anyways. Nevertheless, I played by her rules and gave it to her, as well as our address. I glanced around somewhat anxiously. Where the hell was Derek? "How old are you, Casey?" Her tone was sympathetic, but I rolled my eyes at her. Give me some advice, you cow! My stepsister could be dying here. I ignored her. "Are your parents home, Casey?"

I rolled my eyes again. "Well, if they were, don't you think we'd be heading to the hospital by this point?" I retorted rhetorically. I paused, trying to control myself. "It's just me and my stepbrother." I didn't want to say that we were in charge. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. You don't need to keep me on the line. Just tell me what to do and send the damn ambulance already," I continued shortly. The operator attempted to deal with this with politesse, but I wasn't having it. I couldn't do much for Marti. Exhaling heavily, I snapped, "When's the ambulance going to be here?"

At that precise moment, Derek came down the stairs, looking a bit less insane. My heart leaped up into my throat nonetheless. Derek's eyes darkened when he saw me, and he stalked into the kitchen, clearly angry at first. He just froze when he saw Marti, and this look of terrible guilt passed over his face like a dark shadow. He sank to his knees a moment later, calling her name. "Marti..." He shot me a questioning, almost accusing glance. I would've shrugged because I really didn't know, but instead I clapped a hand over the phone and answered properly, taking pity on him.

He looked more distraught than I'd ever seen him. "I think she fell and hit her head... She was like this when I came in. She won't respond to me, but maybe you could..." My voice trailed off, and I found myself hoping that he got the hint. Fortunately for me, Derek did. He pushed me aside with his shoulder in his haste to get to her, grabbing her hand. He lightly tapped her on the face, his voice pleading.

"Marti, honey, you gotta wake up... Spacey's really freaking out here..." He let out a tiny chuckle but then turned dead serious, clutching her hand as a self-realization struck him. "_I'm_ really freaking out here." My heart broke a little at that. Derek leaned in closer, growing more frantic. I continued half-listening to the pointless conversation. "Come on, Smarti... _Please_ wake up. Do it for me?" His voice turned wheedling, and there was something so helpless about him. That is, until he turned to look at me. A positive growl overtook his features, and he crudely gestured to me. "Hand me the damn dishrag, Casey. I've got to stop her bleeding," He ordered with an impressive authority.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, handing him the cloth. Derek was pressing it to Marti's head to stem the bleeding, careful not to move her in case she had a spinal injury. "I don't know when the ambulance is going to get here, but if they don't get here much sooner we're going to have to drive her ourselves. I-I'm going to go talk to the kids," I managed awkwardly, holding the phone out for him to grab. His eyes flashed with disapproval and didn't even flick down to my outfit. And change into clothes, I added silently. Derek did nod, though, curtly before assuming my role on the phone.

On shaking, panicked legs, I scaled the stairs in record time, running into my room and putting on the first clothes I could find. I knocked down the camera by mistake and peered at it quickly in my curiosity to find that it wasn't even on. I shook away those thoughts and dressed rapidly. I pulled on a sweater, jeans, and sneakers, barely having time to fasten the jeans before I flew up the stairs to the attic. I banged hurriedly on the door before trying it. It was strangely locked, but I pushed that aside, pounding on it heavily. "Edwin, Lizzie, open up! There's been an emergency, and I..." I faltered for a moment. Were they going to come with Derek and me or stay here? I puzzled over that for a moment. We'd left Marti to her own devices and look how that turned out. So, yeah, they're coming with.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Both of them looked curious and somewhat flustered, like I'd interrupted something, but, since I probably looked like a woman possessed, I couldn't blame them. I just reached out and grabbed the both of them by their wrists, pulling them down the stairs. Behind me I heard Liz' query, "Casey, why is your sweater on backwards?" I forced myself to ignore it, and continued dragging them with me wordlessly. I have to be responsible. Of course, at that precise minute, my alarm went off, so I sped into my bedroom to turn it off, letting them go for a minute. I came out, still panting, moments later, easily resuming my grip and hauling their unwilling bodies down the steps.

We finally stopped in the living room. I instructed the confused preteens to wait there while I hurried into the kitchen. Derek was still on the floor next to Marti, and I immediately took it for signs of the worst. She wasn't dead, was she? But when I got closer, I noticed that Marti was awake, albeit a bit sleepy. Upon seeing me, she promptly giggled, waving at me almost drunkenly. "Hiya, Casey. You look funny." You're one to talk, Marti.

I walked over to her, immensely happy that she was awake. I wanted to hug her, but Derek was in the way, and she was probably hurt anyways. I knelt down on her other side, grabbing her hand. "Hey, Marti... How are you feeling, honey?" I asked softly, still worried. I shot a glance at Derek, wishing for some confirmation.

As if he read my mind, Derek answered my silent plea. "She's got a big headache, and I don't know if she's got a concussion, but I don't think so. It looks like she's going to need stitches, though. Luckily the wound seems to be mostly superficial, though, other than that. It's not so deep, just wide. She managed to cut herself on the counter somehow, she slipped going down on some water... The ambulance should be here any minute," He told me brusquely. I nodded dumbly, looking between the two of them. Marti smiled at me lopsidedly.

Sometimes I really forgot just how cute she was. "What he said," She muttered dimly. She giggled again. "But really, I'm fine. My head doesn't hurt so bad," She said cheerily. Marti's ability to be herself at all times, utterly fearless and chipper, amazed me. She reached up to play with my hair. "Now, Casey, why's your hair all messy?" I froze at her question, thinking of what I couldn't say before finally giving an appropriate answer.

"Because you're messing it up, silly," I replied more breezily than I thought I could, tickling her. Derek scowled, and I glanced up at him, communicating a lot with that look. She wasn't just his sister. "Get some alcohol... some mouthwash... I don't care. We should sanitize her wound," I ordered, clearing my throat, still uncertain as to whether he'd bow to my authority. Surprisingly, Derek did, easing his hand off the bloody dishtowel and reaching over, grabbing mine and pressing it to the cloth, effectively entrusting me with his sister. He sent me a look, and an electric current seemed to pass between us for that moment. Then Derek grimly rose, wiping his hands on his pants, turning to leave. "Oh, and tell Ed and Liz to watch out for the ambulance. They're in the living room," I added as an afterthought.

Derek merely nodded and went into the living room to do my bidding. It was a strangely hollow feeling, having him finally do what I asked, with such an awful high cost. And, wow, oh, crap. Someone still had to call Mom and George. I pushed that aside, determining to call them when we were at the hospital. I called out for Lizzie, who came in and spotted Marti. She turned a little green around the edges, and I briskly ordered her to grab my phone, my purse, the keys, and Marti's ID and health care card. Lizzie was only too glad to get out of the room and do my bidding.

Nevertheless, as I sat there with Marti, waiting for the ambulance and Derek and Lizzie, I reflected on what had just happened. Derek's cool head under pressure was certainly admirable, as was the way he'd treated Marti's injury. Of course, being a hockey player, he's no stranger to injuries, especially scrapes and head trauma. I talked to her, saying nonsense things to keep her up and laughing rather than unconscious, just in case she really did have a concussion. I was so panicked, wound up tight, whereas Derek just... took control. Watching him do it, too, when we shared that look, I felt this pang.

Like, I don't know... almost like I missed him or something. Like I was looking on what I could've had, maybe?

No, I know what it was. It was the Old Derek, the one I knew, rearing his face again. I'd missed _him_. That was the Derek I'd grown accustomed to, that was the Derek I'd liked. I had liked Derek, at least. And that, to some degree, was the Derek that took care of Marti that day. I missed Derek the Person, not Derek the Avenger who'd made my life a living hell. It was reassuring to know that he still had feelings, to see it with my own eyes. But I could still remember the depths he'd sunken too before, and that made me leery of him.

Derek came in the room later with the rubbing alcohol, and he smoothed back Marti's hair and poured it slowly on her injury. "Smarti, this is gonna hurt, but it's killing the bacteria, okay?" He warned mere moments before pouring the alcohol on her forehead almost gingerly. Marti let out a sharp hiss and then a few other noises of pain. I dabbed lightly at her forehead, gently wiping away the streams of liquor that tried to rolls in opposite directions. Derek offered her sweet words of praise, and he softened up completely. I stared at him in awe, completely and utterly surprised. Then the paramedics finally came in, all questions and no answers, seizing her and prodding her, and Marti got all distressed, away from her Derek. Derek had to fight his way in there, but he made it into the ambulance with her.

Naturally, I piled the other kids into the car and followed them to the hospital. Eventually I found Derek outside the room where she was being treated. They wouldn't let him inside, and he was, needless to say, more than a little upset. When I came upon him, he was actually happy to see me. I could sense that he was full of questions yet deliberately holding them back. I cleared my throat, wanting to say something, but then I looked up to find Derek staring at me with eerily soft eyes, and I just chickened out. I couldn't think of anything to say.

For a long time it stayed that way. It seemed like Derek couldn't think of anything to say either. He looked strangely discomposed. "You were right, Casey. This... it's not doing anyone any good," He admitted reluctantly, unable to look at me. The fact that it didn't make him feel any better remained unspoken. He shot a worried glance at the door for a moment, peering at it as if he could see straight through it to his sister inside. He swallowed hard. "And it's hurting more people than just us. Because of **me**, Marti got hurt. My little sister could've died because _I_ was too busy tormenting **you** to watch _her_," Derek stated in a blunt yet horrified voice. His eyes were dark and sorrowful.

I wanted to comfort him somehow because it had been my fault too. And, in a way, Marti hurting herself wasn't really anyone's fault. It was just an accident. Derek sighed heavily, leaning against the wall, and then he straightened and looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in a while. "I took it too far this time, Casey, and I'm sorry for that. It just..." He trailed off, strangled, looking like he wanted to rip out his hair or cry. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly too emotional for it to be repeated to me, so he swallowed and tried to regain himself a little. "It spiraled out of my control... It got so out of hand." I nodded patiently.

If I could have, I might've glared at him, but he was apologizing, and I'd mostly forgotten what had happened, the memories having been replaced with thoughts of Marti injured. Derek nodded stiffly, a determined look passing across his face. "You were right. It's not worth it. It ended a long time ago, and this... _sick_ thing we've got going on now, the thing that I started... that's got to end too. From this point forward we live separate lives," He swore resolutely, making me a promise with his eyes. For the next awkward moment, he made a gesture like he wanted to shake my hand or pat me on the shoulder, but that was unacceptable, of course. "I won't cause you any more trouble, Casey," He told me sincerely.

And then the conversation was over. Derek turned away, and, for the first time in his existence, ignored me. I stared at him, shell-shocked. It was an unsettling feeling. I should've felt victorious, but I didn't. Indeed, I felt almost as if I'd lost something. Derek had said he'd stop tormenting me, but everything wasn't going to go back to normal, I realized. The extreme hostility had, at least, been closer to what there'd been before. This... apathy, this ignorance... was unprecedented and strange, almost insulting. So much had happened, yet he was going to act as if we were strangers. It would just be quiet, not spoken of, and that's what I thought I wanted. But I guess I didn't. I guess I just wanted to go back in time.

All that drama and then, what? Suddenly it's all faded out like a puff of smoke, like it never existed. Like some vortex had sucked it up and left me with the void.

The reality was strangely unsatisfying.

- Loren ;*


	25. First Bell

This chapter totally did not turn out like I wanted, so I'm sorry if any of it sounds weird, but Casey and Derek just were not talking, and what they said wasn't really what I wanted them to say... it came out all differently and all that jazz. But, eh, I guess it's supposed to be weird. I kept adding stuff like towards the end too, as I remembered stuff, so, eh. And I kinda hope Derek doesn't come off like this huge asshole. Oh, and you do get to find out about Marti in this chapter. Don't worry... her injury was nothing serious. I'm sorry if I gave anyone the idea that that was like an intentional cliffhanger or something 'cause it totally wasn't meant to be that, by the way... This chapter's pretty heavy towards the end. But oh well. Only four more chapters 'til the end! Aren't you excited?

So, a little bit about the next chapter... It's called Notice Me Then. Paul makes an appearance, or at least I think he will, so that will definitely be a bit of a challenge since I've never written him before, and it might be a bit of a long one. Oh, and Emily makes a reappearance, as does Icky Vicky. Though I haven't quite figured out how that's going to work, but it will. Anyways, I'm not going to say anything more about the chapter because I'll wind up saying too much, and I want to surprise you guys, obviously.

I hope you all like this chapter. It's kind of a transitional phase, mind you...

Oh, and I don't own LWD. I own my version of it, though. Since this was generally written before the episodes where everything was established. But I don't own the characters. Oh, and I also don't own a bit of the Sam/Derek dialogue: the who better/indeed bit, and the two things said before that. Because I totally stole that from Gossip Girl, lol. I just thought it'd be funny to drop that in there, like those actual lines/words.

* * *

"How did this happen? How does a person who prides herself on being in total control lose it? Why am I sitting on the bathroom floor? The answer to all of these questions could only be... Derek."

* * *

For the first time in my life I'm not tormenting Casey. Well, my life recently. And I don't know what to do with myself. It's surreal, you know? So after the fiasco with Marti this weekend, I decided to take a page out of her book and try my best to forget about it. Forgetting is what's best for all of us. But it's hard, even though I've gone out of my way to avoid her lately. I'm even staying at home more now. I guess 'cause I feel like I deserve their punishment.

I was an asshole, and I can admit that. I deserve everything I'm getting. It wasn't worth it, but I thought it was back then. But I mean, I still go out and do stuff. My life hasn't stopped just because I feel bad. It's kind of a relief not always having to top myself. I've been trying to be more courteous, more serious, you know. So I'm not screwing girls all the time. A lot fewer of them, and quietly instead. I'm trying to cut back on my drinking, too, because I know it's not healthy, and I don't want to be an alcoholic or anything. And now I just turn my head when she's with Sam.

There's hockey, girls, parties... that's enough for me. I don't need love, and I'm getting over her. It's just taking longer than expected. And I suspect dating Vicky doesn't particularly help, but she's the only person I want to be around lately. She's the least annoying of the girls I've been with lately, and she and I both want the same things out of this thing we've got going. So I might as well, you know? I kinda like her, anyways.

But no contact... is weird. We only talk now when we have to, and if I didn't know her better, I'd think Casey missed it. I miss her. I miss arguing with her, but I can't go back. I don't know how to do that, and until I do... until I can honestly say I look at her in a remotely sisterly light... which, if I'm being really honest with myself, will probably never happen... then I can't talk to her. She kept me on my toes, you know? And when you're a guy like me, that doesn't happen much. I miss being put in my place. I miss her screaming my name.

Ugh. I've got to stop this before I get mopey or something else that's demeaning to my pride. I am _not_ that kind of guy. I've still got my dignity!

Marti's doing okay, by the way. She's showing off, like always, and won't stop talking about her new scar. She thinks it's only the most awesome thing ever. Marti, of course, fails to see me flinch every time she talks about it. I know Nora and Dad don't blame me because, duh, she's Marti, and she's got my curiosity, and Casey's a huge klutz... but still, I feel like it was my fault. I mean, I was seriously deranged for a while there. And Paul's right, you know? Revenge doesn't solve anything.

That being said, of course, messing around with her... I haven't felt that alive in weeks. Oh my God. It felt so... right. It was exactly what I was missing and more. And she felt so damn good. It was perfect. She was purring my name and responding exactly like I wanted her, and all thoughts out of tormenting her and filming her just went out the window. Oh, and the moaning! I can still hear her moaning, still feel her skin, her moving against me. I'd taught her too well. She was saying all the right things, too, and her lips were mocking me, all pink and moist and pouty. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but she wouldn't let me, and it didn't matter when my lips were on her neck, and I could feel her pulse jumping underneath my tongue. I haven't been that turned on in a long time either. It was painful.

I've been having dreams about it every night like some virgin preteen geek, and I keep replaying it over and over in my head, again and again. Only now there's all these questions. Like does she use these moves on Sam? Has she used them on another guy? The feeling of her body against mine, her limbs twisted around me, thoughts of testing her flexibility... And then there's the wondering if her pulse racing was a side effect of me or because she was afraid? If she even felt anything for me at all. Was she as turned on as I was? How much exactly did she know what she was doing? Did she mean any of what she said that night?

I miss being able to do all that. I miss touching her whenever I wanted, finding excuses... But wow, this is getting seriously emo. I've gotta stop this awful reminiscing. I'm depressing now. It's like when Sally left for Vancouver, only a million and a half times worse. I'm so sick of this pain that won't go away. It's not in my nature to wallow in it, and I am definitely above self-pity. I don't want to be fricking pathetic, okay?!

So, anyways, I was walking down the hallway with Sam, trying to become less hostile towards him, when Sam raised an unusual and surprising point. As in I'm stunned he thought of it because he is way dense. He turns to me and asks all casual-like, with a slightly worried look on his face, "Hey, D, do you know if Casey was seeing anyone? When we were, you know, broken up?" Dude, I swear his voice cracked. Now, normally I love to make fun of Sam, but that's legit, so I can't exactly mock him for finally noticing. And I kinda perked up because if he actually figured it out (not that he did), then I'm definitely in hot water.

Attracted to my stepsister I may be, and in love with her, sure, secretly, but do I want either of those things to become public knowledge? Of course not. I have a reputation to uphold! So I swallowed hard but managed to play it off because Sam's not the sharpest tack in the box. I shrugged, speeding up my pace a little. "I dunno. It's not like I exactly keep tabs on who Spacey hangs out with, Sam," I replied somewhat irritatedly, belying my unease. Lately, no, I haven't been. 'Cause I don't want to think about her anymore. It's freaking exhausting. And a waste of my time and goes against these efforts to forget about her. Otherwise, of course, I'd know, or I'd get Edwin to snoop for me. Sam frowned and got this cute little confused look on his face, one of those stupid hopeful ones.

"C'mon, Derek..." He shot me a pleading look. Since I dislike him, not even enough feeling to despise him, I had no trouble ignoring it. I turned away, rolling my eyes. Foolishly, Samuel persisted in trying to aggravate me further. "You live with her. You must have some idea of where she was going... who was coming in and out of your house," He pointed out, trying to appeal to my reason. Too bad that was against him too. And, what, is he trying to say I don't know who comes in and out of my home? I am the MASTER of my home. Just ask anyone... especially Casey.

I shot him a dark look. "What are you trying to say, Sam? That I'm supposed to stare at the front door all the time waiting for one of Casey's many suitors to show up and woo her? In _case-y_ you haven't noticed, I happen to have a life," I retorted sarcastically. Or is he trying to say that I am not the master of my own house? That I don't know every last thing going on inside of it? His eyebrows went up when I mentioned her many suitors. Truthfully, though, there haven't been that many... Sam, Scott, Trevor, Tinker, Max, Noel, Truman... me. I mentally patted myself on the back for making him worry."And my life does **not** revolve around Casey. I have better things to do than spy on my stepsister. That's Ed's gig, not mine," I rejoined especially vitriolically, since that was mostly a blatant lie. My life revolves around Casey a lot more than I'm willing to admit, sadly enough.

Sensing an opening, I slowed down and eventually stopped, shooting him a look. I forced myself to be calm, maintaining a smile that felt like a grimace. "Besides, Sam, what makes you think she was dating anyone when you two were broken up?"

He made a face. "Max gave me a heads-up." I cocked an eyebrow at that in disbelief. What the hell is Max doing talking to Sam? The ugly look on Sam's face got worse. He looked pissed. "When he found out we got back together, he gave me this little warning... He looked really surprised, and he said that she'd seemed really into this other guy. He said they'd talked, and she told him she was with someone." I suddenly remembered the phone calls I'd overheard, and a grim smile swept across my face. Then Sam said something really stupid. "But I didn't think they were friends anymore..."

Seriously, sometimes I really wanna smack that kid in the head and tell him to buy a clue! "They're not." I rolled my eyes, deciding to make Sam hate Max. It'll be to my advantage, after all. Plus he's really an asshole. "Max only knows because he was calling her, trying to get back with her. He was coming on to her! She rejected him flat-out, time and time again. Now, she might've told him she had a boyfriend, but does that mean she was telling the truth? Or does it just mean she wanted him to screw off and stop calling?" I informed him intelligently. For a moment, Sammy was content to ponder this.

Nevertheless, he still shook his head. "But Casey's a horrible liar, Dere. Everybody knows that."

Touché. Well, I'll be damned. Sam has a decent point for once.

But it'll be all too easy to convince him otherwise. Just watch. I'm a pro. "I mean, this is _Casey_ we're talking about here. She does homework on Friday nights and thinks extra credit is fun. You really think she found another guy?" I said skeptically, trying to turn him off of the idea. Because if he starts thinking he'd suspect me... or he'll keep asking questions I don't want to answer. Which is just annoying.

Sam nodded, contemplating it. I thought I had him going, but then he shook his head. "She was different, though... Happier, less neurotic, less dramatic... more busy, like she had her hands full with someone else. She was just so disinterested... less Casey. And I practically had to kiss her feet to get her to agree to even go out with me again, and that was just for one date. She was so adamant about it, too, at first, that it wasn't a date, just a friends thing..." Sam mused. I wanted to punch him because hearing that reminded me of how much of an idiot I'd been. Maybe things would be different if I'd just trusted her.

I sighed heavily, and Sam looked at me funny. Great. "Why does it even matter if she was with anyone in your absence, Sam? She's dating you now, and that's long in the past... Why bother torturing yourself over the mere possibility of her with someone else? What's done is done, Sammy," I told him, resigned. Why does he need to question it? He's got the girl. Why the need to know?

This time he sighed. His eyes were on the floor, and he looked anxious, biting his lip. "Well, it's just... Things aren't the way they used to be. Casey's not the same person, you know? I just have this feeling that there was someone else, you know? And she's been so distant that I'm not sure whatever it is is over... I feel like I'm losing her, and I _can't_ lose her, Derek," Sam admitted a bit shamefully. He shot me a nervous look, like he thought he'd revealed too much. Why does he care so much? He can't actually love her, right? Can he?

"It's over," I proclaimed instantaneously. I couldn't help myself, and Sam gave me a weird look in response. I could sense the question before he asked it, so I shut him down. "If, that is, anything actually happened... Casey's not a cheater." Unlike you, I almost added. Sam looked reassured, and I hated that it was a result of my actions, but eh, at least he deserved the truth. Who knows? Maybe this joker of a best friend of mine actually makes her happy. If that's true, then maybe I owe it to the guy to be a bit nicer. She chose him, not me. I think... "What are you trying to say, Sammy?" I asked, feeling somewhat confused.

Sam scowled deeply, leaning against the lockers. "I think she's got feelings for the guy, whoever he is. She's been so distracted lately, you know, that maybe she's thinking about getting back with him," Sam confessed worriedly. Normally this would've pissed me off, but it was actually helpful. I was probably the reason she'd been distracted, but when the first part registered, my jaw dropped, and I took a step back in disbelief. My head shot up, eyes widened, and I perked up like a puppy or a damn flower or a horny preteen's dick. And I backed smack into Truman, the douchebag, which sent both of us falling to the floor. I got up quickly, scowling at him over my shoulder. Feelings? That guy was me! That's just... It can't be possible! Can it? Dare I hope? Ugh, I sound like a pansy. And seriously, what am I, Klutzilla? "Watch where you're walking, dumbass!" I shouted at him irately, trying to save face.

My supposed friend looked concerned. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I sort of freaked out and shoved it off. Which is understandable, given he had a sexual relationship with a guy who looked like me. Prolly because he looked like me. "D, man, you okay?" I nodded, muttering about how the asshole had just come out of nowhere. Sam then saw fit to continue begging me to figure out who Casey's secret boyfriend was. Conflict of interest much?

He frowned, putting his hands on my shoulders. I was really uncomfortable with him getting that close, that in-my-face. "Look, Derek, I know how you feel about Casey." Wow, I should really not be so alarmed by that statement. God, I hope it doesn't show. That would be embarrassing. This poker face has never failed me. "And I wouldn't be asking you to do this if there was anyone else I could ask." Uh, hello, there is! There's oh, I dunno, your girlfriend (not that Sam favors the direct route), for starters! Not to mention Emily, Lizzie, Nora, or one of her little dance buddies... Edwin the spy. Need I continue? "But you're the only one I can trust." I almost laughed aloud at that, really.

Bro, I am the last person you can trust here. Frankly, you'd be better off trusting Max.

Sam pouted, leaning in a little more and making me more uncomfortable. "Could please you find out who she was seeing?" He had this pathetically desperate look which made me think maybe he did have some feelings for her after all. Or he's a jealous psycho. Not that I'm one to talk, am I? However, the look also reminded me of all the favors I probably owed him. Plus he was really close, so I had to capitulate.

I am not a man of subtlety, so I told him flat out. "Me." With a lovely little smirk because it was kind of hilarious. I had backed away from him, just in case (and because it was creepin' me), by this point. Unfortunately, I guess there was a questioning lilt to my voice or something, but anyways, Sam thought I was joking or asking a question or something. Dumbass.

He shot me a look, putting a hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, D. You live with her. Who better?" I practically snorted. Seriously. I had to suppress it. It took me a long moment to regain my calm. Especially since I really wanted to laugh at him. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath and smiled.

"Indeed..." I muttered, half under my breath. No one's better equipped for the job. I shrugged Sam's hand off my shoulder, giving him an annoyed look. My gaze was stern, convicting. "I'll do it. But I really don't think you've got anything to worry about, and I probably won't find anything... And asking me to do your dirty work isn't exactly going to win you any points with Casey. Besides, even if she was seeing someone, she's certainly not seeing him anymore," I declared bluntly, shaking hands with him. No hugging.

Sam's whole being brightened up, which was really disturbing. As was his ear-to-ear-grin. Like I'm doing him this huge favor when I'm really trying to cover my own tracks. Now, I can either say there's nothing going on, that Casey's clean, or I can pick a guy for her to have hooked up with... Hmm. Well, Truman pisses me off, but he'd actually like that, and who knows how she'd feel about it, so maybe he's out, as much as I would like to see him punched in the face. There's always Noel... Hm, maybe that'd work. Sam patted my shoulder hard. "Thanks so much, D-man! I owe you one! Anyways, catcha at practice later!" He promptly ran off to class like some little fairy who actually cared about being on time. No, seriously, it was like he skipped or flew or something. He was chirpingly excited about it, which probably means Casey's in that class.

Hmm... Maybe he's more whipped than I thought, eh? Who would've thunk it? "You're telling me," I muttered, heading to my own class. Though, really, why does he need to know? He's the one who cheated on her. It's not like it's the other way around. Nevertheless, I suppose I understand his need to know who he's up against. Not that he's ever gonna find that out. Unlike Sam the Lame, I took my sweet time in getting there. After all, she (my bitchy teacher) can wait. I just don't care about being late.

Anyways, fast forward to lunch. Imagine my surprise when Casey just walked up to me as I was emerging from class, fully intending to go for a well-deserved cigarette break. Like it was no thing. Nothing. Like it wasn't the first time we'd spoken all weekend. She had this determined glint in her eye I haven't seen for a long time, and I knew instantly that she wanted to talk, and it wouldn't be about meaningless crap. She crossed her arms over her chest, sighing heavily. "We need to talk, Derek," She said weightily.

I wondered what on earth she could possibly have to tell me that was so serious. There was this grave look on her face too, and her skin was the color of rice pudding or spoiled milk, you know... Sickly pale. Nevertheless, I popped my collar and postured. Because a guy's got to have his dignity, you know, and I'm just too cool for school. "Oh, come crawling back to me already? You know, got a _case_ of seller's remorse once you figured out what you were missing?" I replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow. Casey full-on scowled at me, and then she looked petrified upon realizing I'd said it in the public hallway. But, come on, I wouldn't have said it if I thought people were going to call me an incestuous freak.

"Der-EK!" Casey snapped, still mortified. She glanced around worriedly and moved closer to me as if that would make me quieter or something. I just smirked. Look at that. Got her to scream my name again. Wow, she's easy. Casey opened her mouth like she was going to give me a lecture, and duh, of course she was. She would've made a complete fool of herself, and while I do relish the cracks in Casey's carefully-crafted facade, I don't really have the time.

"Chill, Case... It was a joke," I explained, rolling my eyes. Not a very funny one, but sometimes we make jokes out of pain or to avoid pain. That's just what I'm doing, you know? Best to have a sense of humor about it so I don't take it too seriously and wind up Mr. Mopes-A-Lot. I leaned against the locker, bored and trying to distract myself from her all-too distracting presence. I can't stare at her for too long, you know? It's like the sun. It's bad for your eyes.

It hurts sometimes.

A little glance here or there from the side. Can't let her get to me. "So, what exactly did you want to talk to me about, Caserella?" I asked calmly. I was amazed at how easy it was not to be hostile to her. I didn't want anything from her anymore, and it was weird talking to her and not wanting something. It shouldn't be this easy, you know. It shouldn't be so easy to pretend nothing happened. But I guess her way's the easy way out. Come to think of it, it's a wonder I didn't try this route on my own.

Must be because I'm in love with her. If I'd just hooked up with her, it would've been easy to forget about the whole thing, for the most part. Damn her eyes!

Casey looked down as if she was ashamed and moved closer to me, crossing an arm over her middle. Her eyes kept darting around, and I wondered what she could possibly tell me. Whatever it was, she sure looked nervous. She licked her lips, and my eyes were immediately drawn there, distracted and unfocused. She cleared her throat. "Derek..." I nodded dimly, still focused on her moist, full, pink lips. "Der-_ek_! Won't you at _least_ pay attention to me when I'm talking to you?" She snapped whinily.

My eyes immediately shot back up to her face. I mentally congratulated myself for getting her to say my name that way again. I smiled grimly. "I'm all ears, Space Case. Now, why don't you hurry it up? I've got more important things to do," I demanded somewhat brusquely. I can't let this go on. Not for too long or I'll get caught back up in it again. Casey scowled at me, and I looked at her expectantly. She relented quickly under my stare and came still closer, grabbing my arm without even thinking of it. If she had, I'm sure she would've realized it was a bad idea.

Finally she broke down and confessed, "I'm late." I blinked at her. Wow. That was anticlimactic.

I rolled my eyes at her. Duh. "To lunch? Uh, yeah!" I rolled my eyes again just for good measure, crossing my arms over my chest and cocking an eyebrow. "Now... is that _really_ all you wanted to talk to me about? 'Cause I think you could've done a little better job making something up if you wanted an excuse to see me," I told her impatiently. There was, of course, a cocky undertone in my voice. I had reason to be cocky. It was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard. I mean, c'mon, Casey, way to state the obvious.

Casey sighed, looking flushed and frustrated. "Yes, Derek," She repeated patiently, "I'm _late._" Yeah, Casey, you kinda already said that. I rolled my eyes, and Casey seethed not too silently. I barely managed to fight down the smirk creeping up on the corners of my lips. "Do I have to spell it out for you?" I cocked an eyebrow, crossing my arms over her chest. Her hand was placed angrily on her hip, her lips pursed, posture stiff. She then proceeded to spell it out for me. Literally. "L-A-T-E, rhymes with hate... Je suis en retard. Yo soy tarde._" _Clue the blank look from moi. I mean, it's one thing to state the obvious, but yet another to repeat it. In different languages that she knows I both was definitely flunking, although I'm better at French (it's a Canadian thing, plus the French dudes get all the girls. I know how to say a little "voulez-vous me baiser ce soir?", if you know what I'm saying). And, hello, if she'd just gone to lunch on time instead of sequestering me here, then she wouldn't be late. So her making herself late to yell at me about it is rather stupid.

"Then why don't you just go to lunch and stop bitching about it?" I pointed out, getting irritated quickly. This whole conversation is pointless. I don't even care if she wants to talk to me. Damn it, I'm hungry, and I'm not about to be any later for her! I want to eat, not waste my time talking to my evil stepsister.

She made this sort of screaming noise, grabbing my arms and shoving me into the locker, clearly fed up. "Der-ek! I'm _late_, not as in late to lunch..." She huffed. Her voice dropped an octave lower, and once again her eyes swept around the hallway for any signs of life. And then she leaned in a little bit more, looking into my eyes although it was clear that she didn't want to. "As in my period's over a week late. As in it's not here," She said in a whisper. Her voice hitched, and she looked strangely scared. I didn't really get it, although, in retrospect, maybe I should have. I made a face at her revelation. She was giving me this look like I should know what that meant, like it should mean something to me too.

It didn't. It was gross, honestly. "As hard as this may be for you to believe, Sis, I don't want to hear about your menstrual cycles," I said bluntly with as straight a face as I could manage. My face was, in reality, twisted into a kind of grimace. I mean, just, EW! "So you're not PMSing. You're just naturally a dramatic, overemotional, psychotic bitch." Casey slapped me hard across the face then. I didn't see it coming, so it genuinely stung. Nevertheless, it didn't stop me. I just grabbed her wrist so she couldn't do it again and kept going. Rolling my eyes, I drawled carelessly, "Seems to me like you should be glad about that. I mean, who actually _wants_ blood shooting out of them?"

Casey rolled her eyes, a disgusted look passing over her features. I was nonplussed. She was giving me that "you're misunderstanding my purpose again" look. I exhaled, bored and rather tired of the conversation. "Why don't you tell me why I should care, then?" I proclaimed irritably, finding myself getting mad against my will. I'm really sick of doing this with her, going around in circles. It's also kind of like she's speaking Hebrew.

This enraged Casey more than I could believe, and she grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, jerking me towards her, getting right up in my face. "I think I might be pregnant, Derek," She blurted with a force that shocked me to the core. She released me, and I fell against the locker, half out of surprise and half because she'd just relinquished her grip on me. That and my jaw dropped all the way to the floor. For a solid two minutes I couldn't even form a complete, coherent sentence. I couldn't say one damn thing.

Oh. So that's what she meant.

She gave me this challenging look, hands akimbo, looking just as stubborn as I remembered. She was pretty much daring me to do something about that, to challenge what she'd said, and I couldn't. Frankly, it was hard to wrap my mind around the whole idea. Casey, Little Miss Careful, possibly pregnant?! It couldn't be! Despite screwing her more times than I can entirely remember, it's still hard to really think of her as a sexual being. Which, I realize, is utterly bizarre, but, I dunno... It was different for her than it was for me, you know? She was rarely the initiator and usually just facilitated things.

Then it hit me. Sam. Why the hell was she coming to me? Why here, of all places? Why not in the privacy of our own home? "I think you've got the wrong guy. After all, we're done. Shouldn't you be going to Sammy-Whammy instead?" I retorted more bitterly than angrily. Casey flinched at the implication behind my words. She barely resisted slapping me. I could tell. She gave me a hard look instead and acted as if I hadn't said anything. Her stiff posture was the only thing that betrayed her.

"Come on, Derek. You're coming to the bathroom with me," She ordered, grabbing my wrist and dragging me towards the girls' room. Gee, it's not like I have a choice or anything. Real polite of you, Miss Manners. Who's the brute now? What exactly does she mean by this? Oh, and what if someone's actually in the bathroom? Won't they think it's suspicious? A guy, much less me, being dragged into the girls' washroom? Not that it's the first time or anything.

I raised my eyebrows at her. "A quickie? Well, why didn't you say so?" I winked at her sleazily. Seriously, if she did, I definitely would've come willingly. "I didn't know you were kinky like that, Case..." Having sex in a public place is so not Casey, you know? Much less her being all bossy about it. Although, you know, during our relationship, I was really surprised about all the places she was willing to have sex in... her bed, the couch, my recliner, the landing, on the stairs, up against the wall in the entryway, against the front door, on the hard wood floor (fitting, I suppose), against the counter, on top of the dining room table, on top of the washer AND dryer, the walls of the second floor hallway, on the stairs up to the attic, my backseat, my bed, against the sink, in the shower... Then again, after being with Sam for a while... I don't really blame her. She's got to be missing that feeling. Casey rolled her eyes and shoved me into the bathroom with a bit more force than was necessary. For my part, I bore it with grace.

She shot me a venomous look, pulling the door closed behind me. "Shut it, Derek." Then she locked the door. Of course I raised my eyebrows. I mean, what was I supposed to do or think? She fixed me with a glare that, of course, meant she knew exactly what I was thinking. The look also meant for me to cease and desist with those kind of thoughts, naturally. I leaned against the sink, bored. I mean, I'm locked in a bathroom with Casey. The last few times we did this were pretty damn exciting. This time? Not so much.

"So, why'd you bring me here? Gonna bump me off for good, Sunshine?" I quipped, rolling my eyes. Since Casey was just pacing like a typical idiot, I exhaled irritably and pushed myself up to sit on the counter. Luckily it wasn't wet. Guess girls are just more neat about that stuff. Casey didn't answer me. She was still pacing, clutching her purse, lost in her own world. Hmm, do you think I can leave? 'Cause I don't know what I'm doing here. Still. And I could be eating.

Some talking this is turning out to be. More like Casey being a total freak and not talking. And, dude, when has Casey ever had a problem talking? "Okay, so let's see... You're not going to jump me, and you've made no moves to kill me yet. I have to admit I'm confused. I really don't get what the bathroom has to do with anything unless you wanna wizz, and in case you haven't noticed... and you should have, by the way, because God knows you've seen me naked enough times to know that's not true... I'm not a chick. I don't do the whole peeing together in groups thing," I pointed out in my immense boredom, staring dimly out into space. I was rambling, even, but Casey didn't notice.

Sighing heavily, I pushed myself off the counter and walked over to the now-hyperventilating Casey. She must be really distracted if she didn't hit me for insinuating that she remembers what I look like wet and naked. I grabbed her and shook her pretty hard. Her arms latched on to me in an attempt to steady herself. "What's your damage, NutCase? You're not stroking out on me, are you?" I could've been meaner, but I didn't want to be too much of an asshole. I was getting pretty pissed off, though, with the way she was wasting her time. Casey just had to look all... scared and vulnerable then, and I kind of completely forgot my anger. Nevertheless, I swallowed hard and made my voice sound harsh, "Spit it out already, Case!"

She swallowed hard. Her eyes looked awful teary, and that made me nervous. I'm a mess around crying girls, you know? Then she held her head high, blinked back the tearlets (which I was all too thankful for), and slowly opened up her purse, pulling out one box, which she placed on the counter, and then another and another. There were three boxes in all, and all of them contained, I realized with horror, pregnancy tests. It took me even more aback than what she told me before. I know I shouldn't have been surprised by that, given she told me that she thought she was maybe pregnant, and Casey is the type who loves to overanalyze everything and figure things out to death... But it made it, I dunno, real to me.

The fact that she actually has pregnancy tests shows that it was a distinct possibility. But I couldn't write it off anymore, y'know? Clearblue Easy, one read. Error Proof Test, said another. Answer, was the last one. Even the names were so Casey, you know? Of course she'd want something error-proof, and duh, she wants answers. She spoke, even though no speech was necessary by that point. "I'm serious here, Derek. I've got to take these tests. I'm gonna do it. I have to find out." I would've rolled my eyes if I still didn't feel like a truck hit me in the stomach. As opposed to what, not finding out until you gain a lot of weight, and it just slips out of you one day?! Casey and pregnancy tests, let alone her needing to take one, are incompatible.

Plus then there was the image of a chagrined, embarrassed Casey actually buying the tests, no doubt undercover, probably wearing those huge sunglasses, a hat, a trenchcoat, and that blonde wig of hers. Because that's how she would do it, of course, because she's not one of _those_ girls, those sluts that get looked at like the tramps they are when they buy preggo tests. She picked up the boxes, one by one again, opening them, removing the test sticks that made me squirm and carefully reading the instructions.

Because, um, ew. Does she expect me to stay here or something? 'Cause I really don't want to. I mean, doesn't she have girlfriends she can do this sort of thing with? Or Planned Parenthood clinics she can visit? Where's Emily when you need her?! Figures, the one time I really want Emily around, she just... isn't. I forced a smile, but I really felt a lot like I was gonna be sick. I mean, why the hell am I even still in here?! It's not like I'm getting anything out of this except an increased hunger. And whether that hunger's for Casey or food, well, I don't entirely know...

It's not a good train of thought. I'm not her damn boyfriend, okay? I mean, she's made that pretty damn clear. And, c'mon, do I really want to be Spacey's little boyfriend? No. Of course not. That's nuts. It sucked except for the sex, basically. Which is still not something I need to think about. But, gee, does she need me here for moral support or something? 'Cause, really, even the school nurse would be better, I'd think, at this point than her... ex-whatever.

The nurse would also prolly actually want to be here because Casey has that tight little ass... Damn. And she'd want an excuse to touch her, of course...

WHY THE HELL AM I STILL HERE?!

If her ass is up the spout, with a bun in the oven, and a bad case of the Egyptian flu, preggo, nant-nant, knocked-up, eating for two, expecting a little visitor, even more hormonal than usual, up the kite, got a bellyful, up the pole (as a result of someone's pole), dynamite in the sack, in a delicate condition, carryin' around some major extra weight, well on her way to becoming a U.F.O. (unidentifiable fat object), with child, gestating, incubating another living human being, housing a future person, occupied uterus, holding in her evil, cursed spawn, up the duff, enceinte, fully fecund, gravid, parturient, pupped, stuffed like a turkey at Thanksgiving, storing some serious baggage in her trunk, ready to pop, ready to drop, storing an egg in the dragon's nest, overfull, developing new life, fertilized, scrambling eggs inside of her, being a sperm reservoir, stitching together a genetic code in her womb, pleine, looking like she swallowed a watermelon whole, soon-to-be-a-mother... then why the hell isn't SAM here?!

I'm not gonna play the baby daddy in this situation. She's got to tell him herself. "As much as I would like to watch you pee on a stick to determine whether or not you've got a passenger, I'm gonna have to pass. Why don't you text me the results later, and I'll try and really screw up to make the 'rents go easier on you, okay?" I drawled coolly, trying to find a way out. The offer was surprisingly generous on my part, but Casey didn't see its merit. Casey glowered at me, and I rolled my eyes. What the hell does she want from me? She's not exactly being communicative here. I mean, I get that she's worried and all whatever, and that's affecting her, but does she really have to be this flippin' confusing? "_What_, Casey, do you actually want me to stick around?" I retorted somewhat irritably. I stopped cold when she looked down, and I realized that she actually did. "You actually do."

Huh, not what I was expecting...

Holy freakin' cow. That kinda left me speechless.

But, Derek, I had to remind myself, it doesn't mean anything. She probably just doesn't want to be alone. She wants someone, anyone to hold her hand, and she doesn't care if it's you. You were just the first person she could find. But if she didn't want to be alone, why not get Emily or someone else? Why not Sammy? Why me?! I swallowed hard. Her eyes were getting all teary, and she gets really hard to resist then. "Why?" I demanded. Casey didn't answer, just held the tests and stared down at them. Not even gonna give me a reason? "This isn't my place, Casey. It's not my job to do this, to be here. So why don't you go get your loving boyfriend instead?" I stated firmly. She'd made it painfully clear to me where my place was.

I swallowed down painfully over the lump in my throat, forcing a smile. "After all, I'm _just_ your brother," I muttered bitterly. Nothing ever happened. I never kissed you. I never touched you. I never slept with you. We never made out. We never had sex. We never had a relationship. We never had anything. You never wanted me, and I never wanted you. I never loved you. It never happened. I never was anything more than your stepbrother. Isn't that what you want, Casey?

Screw this. I am outta here. I turned on my heel, heading for the door. Casey threw the tests down on the sink and ran after me, grabbing my arm and whirling me around. She forced me to look her in the eyes, and it was weird because she didn't look vulnerable and uncertain and needy like she was supposed to. A fire was burning in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and for a moment she just stood there, stock still, still holding my arm. I grew tired of the waiting fast, but I decided briefly that if she wanted me to stay so badly, she must have some sort of reason. I stared her down levelly. "Give me a reason, Casey. Give me one reason why I need to be here, why you _need_ me here... and I'll stay."

Her eyes darted down, and she swallowed hard. I shook off her arm. Fine, no reason. Her loss, not mine. I moved to leave once and for all that time, until Casey reached out again suddenly and pulled me to her. I blinked in astonishment as Casey pulled back just a little to look me in the eyes. Her eyes were a clear, eerily serene blue, negating her turbulent, dramatic state of mind. "Because if... If I'm pregnant... It's _yours_," She half-blurted, half-stuttered. My jaw dropped practically to the floor, and I shook my head, unable to believe it. Mine?

I know we had sex, but how is that even possible? Logically I know it is, but it just... doesn't make sense. It can't be me. Mine. Whatever. I mean... The last time was, what, a practically a month or so ago?

"But you're dating Sam. You're _with_ Sam," I repeated numbly, trying to draw back away from her. As if the reasons why the kid, if it existed, couldn't be mine were obvious. We were in an awkward sort of half-embrace, with her hands on my shoulders, her body pitched forward on her tiptoes. I wanted to shake her off, but she held fast. She was biting her pretty pink bottom lip, too, in that way that always made me want to slam her up against a wall and make her forget her name.

I'm no sucker. I'm not just gonna believe her immediately because she thinks I'll be the better guy here or whatever, and, really, why would she think that? Because I actually love her and we already live together, so, what, I'd be obligated to care for the little sucker?! Or, what else, did Sam reject her or something? Is that why he asked me that stupid question today?! It'd flatter my vanity, but I'm not dumb enough to believe it. Casey gave me an expectant look, like I should readily accept her admission and know what it meant. Sometimes I think she forgets she's talking to me.

I just gave her a blank look, and she rolled her eyes. Then she cleared her throat and glanced away somewhat embarrassingly. "Sam and I have never... been intimate." Cue a blink here. I mean, I think I see what she's getting at, and it makes sense, but my mind doesn't quite grasp it. Sensing my confusion, Casey looked over at me again and huffed out a sigh. Her grip tightened on my shoulders. "I've never had sex with Sam," She admitted unwillingly, looking up at me, willing me to comprehend.

Blinking dimly, I just gave her the same dull look. "So that means I'm... what?" I managed dazedly. "The last guy you slept with?" The thought was staggering and incredible.

And, God, Casey nodded. She let go of me, leaning against the counter, heaving out a sigh. "The first, the last, and the _only_ guy I've ever slept with," She confessed wearily, crossing her arms over her chest. She was staring into space, looking more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her. She knocked all the breath out of me with that statement, and I kind of felt like I was choking on my own saliva. I couldn't really blame her for not wanting to seal the deal with Sam. That would be hard. Plus Sam would've totally bragged about it... I just assumed, you know? But she had said there was someone before me, and it had sort of seemed like that could be true... Don't get me wrong, I know the difference between a virgin and a non-virgin... but every girl's different, right? But I guess... not.

I just stared at her in awe as the fact that I was the last one to touch her, the only one that knew what it was like to be inside of her. It was so hot to know that no one else had touched her, made me feel like she was still mine. I walked over to her, grabbing her shoulder softer than I intended. She looked up at me with watery, unhappy eyes. "Say that again," I demanded in a low voice. She blinked in confusion and sighed again. I waited impatiently.

But she seemed to know what I wanted. We locked eyes for a minute before she nodded and looked away. "You are... you were the only one," She mumbled awkwardly, avoiding my eyes. And there it was to her, ended there. I could've kissed her for it. Casey cleared her throat anxiously. She missed how my eyes shut for that one moment, how it stretched on for me like an eternity, how I absorbed the words, let them soak in, and enjoyed that moment. She didn't see the immense self-gratification flicker over my features. Nor did she note how my eyes darkened like old whisky, and she failed to perceive the feral glimmer there and know it for what it was, a form of ownership. She either didn't care or just didn't notice. Typical. She's got those Casey-goggles on as usual, and if she doesn't want to see something, she just doesn't see it. "Don't let it go to your head," She added somewhat sternly.

I was not so unaffected. Needless to say, I stayed. My dad, as neglectful, indulgent, often idiotic, and clueless as he is, didn't raise me to be a total asshole. Just because I'm spoiled and stubborn and used to always getting my way doesn't mean that I'm not a gentleman. When I try. I do, as a rule, generally treat women right. I might not be a chevalier or anything, and I don't hold open doors or do any of that garbage to try and prove chivalry isn't dead... I pay for my dates, show 'em a good time, respect 'em if they deserve it, and I'm not abusive or violent. I don't make them do anything they don't want to do, and I have standards and stuff. I don't take advantage of drunk girls, for instance. And I'm all about full disclosure. No woman ever gets me into her without knowing what she's getting into (that being said, of course, there are some who get confused, like Kendra, but I really couldn't be more clear if I tried!). With the exception of Casey. You see, I might be the exception to all rules, but she's the exception to all of mine.

Casey bit her lip, looking at me, tests in hand. Knowing her, she'd probably memorized the instructions to all of them already. "So you'll wait for me?" She asked in a voice that wavered dangerously. I realized suddenly just how much she really needed me there, and for the first time I was glad she'd picked me instead of Sam. I just nodded slowly. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter if I missed lunch. There were bigger things at hand. I kind of didn't trust myself to talk because what could I possibly say? I just knew I'd wind up making an ass out of myself, like always. What was I gonna say? I'll wait for you forever?

Or something ridiculously cheesy (but disturbingly too close to home and too close to being true) like that?

At any rate, Casey smiled faintly and motioned to the stalls. "I'll just, uh, be a minute or two," She told me, walking towards the stalls. I just nodded, afraid I would do something idiotic or say something sappy and ruin everything. She paused upon reaching the door and turned back to look at me, biting her lower lip. "So, Derek... what happens if I'm pregnant?" Casey asked in a little rattling voice. Her grip on the door shook a little. She didn't look prepared to be a mother. She couldn't be pregnant. She just couldn't be.

Then you're pregnant, I guess.

I didn't want to even contemplate it, and I couldn't even understand how Casey managed to think of it for even a moment. "I don't know," I admitted honestly. Casey froze, turning pale. She suddenly looked even more nervous, like an excitable rabbit, you know, the ones that tremble and claw and thrash when you touch them. I was afraid she was going to make some comment about me being an asshole and how she never should've trusted me with this, call me a child or irresponsible or insist that she'd raise it herself, and how could I be so inconsiderate, and she was wrong to ever sleep with me... And so I spoke before she could. I wanted to reassure her. "But if you are... we'll work things out, okay? I'll support whatever you want to do. I'll be there. I'm... not gonna turn my back on you. Or the kid. If there even is one," I supplied awkwardly. For a moment, I thought I'd grab her hand or something, but I pulled my hand back at the last minute, thinking the better of it.

This odd look passed over her face, and I hurried to amend my statement. Wow. I... shouldn't have to think about this kind of thing. "Not that I wouldn't be happy if there is one, but I'm just hoping there isn't one... Because I get that you're scared, and, truth be told, this scares the living crap out of me..." I muttered, really hoping I didn't sound like an idiot. Of course, I did. Casey just turns me into this buffoon, you know? Okay, so maybe some of that's a lie. Obviously I don't want to be a father at this point in my life. Clearly. I don't even know if I want to procreate. But, I mean, how could I really react if she was pregnant? Couldn't say "no, I don't accept that" and shove the bundle back into her arms, you know? So I really hope that she's not pregnant. Really.

Casey surprised me by letting out a loud, high laugh. I frowned at her. Great. Now she thinks I'm some sort of laughingstock? As if she didn't already, when she rejected me? As if sensing this, Casey clapped a hand over her mouth, giving me an apologetic look. "It's just... I never thought I'd see the Mighty Derek Venturi afraid. Or not at all smooth." You and me both, Case. Even I'm not that fearless. I shrugged, hoping to play it off. I don't like to admit it... but I'm seriously off my game here. I don't... I feel like some weak, insecure, unsure, indecisive little nancy boy. I don't know anymore, and I don't like feeling like this. Like I've been knocked over, or something.

Psh. I never thought I'd live to see the day Derek Venturi was basically whipped. Or the day I'd fall in love, much less with Casey freaking McDonald. But here we go. Life is stranger than fiction.

She did look relieved, though, like it made her feel better to know that she wasn't the only one freaking the hell out. I just... hide it better, keep it under control. Or I try. Since when is she so calm about possibly having my baby? Shouldn't she be a complete emotional wreck here, instead of all quiet and weird, given that she's carrying the spawn of Satan, as she would say? "Never thought I'd see a teenage Casey McDonald taking a pregnancy test. Or screwing me," I replied with an offhanded shrug. It was the wrong thing to say, though, and she glared at me fiercely.

Could've been worse. She could've hit me. I deserved it. Instead she merely started wringing her hands, finally looking distressed. "Dear God, why did I ever sleep with _you_, of all people?" She muttered half to herself. I'm not going to lie and say that didn't hurt, but it hurt less than I thought it would. She continued half-talking to herself, and I watched with a little smirk. It was a nice bit of relief from the sudden serious weight of the situation. "I mean, Derek Venturi? **What **was I thinking?!" Her voice rose to a high, dramatic pitch, burgeoning on her being ridiculous. "Clearly I wasn't thinking!" Now she was pacing. My eyes were having trouble following her.

Haven't we been over this already? Hmm, wonder how long this ill-timed freak-out of hers is going to last. After all, I do still want to eat, and I'd preferably like to know if I'm a father before. Because if I am, I'm probably going to run to the toilet and vomit. Plus I'm sure we don't have much time left alone here. Someone's going to come in the bathroom, see everything, and wonder what the hell we're doing in here together, and that'll lead to unwanted questions... which means I'll probably have to either distract or bribe someone. Can't Casey just freak out later? I mean, she slept with me over a month ago. Now is not the time for a freak-out.

She was still muttering to herself like an idiot and pacing and wringing her hands, so finally I just exhaled and marched over to her, grabbing her so she'd stop moving like a freaking butterfly or something. "Casey, let's just get this over with. Just take the tests already... so we'll know," I ordered, steering her back towards the stall and practically pushing her back in it. Casey's mouth closed in surprise. It was one of few times in my life I've ever seen her speechless, and I was kind of relieved since her voice was a-grating on my nerves. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Okay. Okay," She repeated numbly. "I'll do it. I'm going..." Casey slowly walked into the stall but stopped just before closing the door. "I'll just be a few minutes. Do watch the door, Derek. I'm sure neither of us wants anyone walking in on this," She replied coolly, just a second before shutting the door. Maybe she is pregnant. The girl sure is having moodswings! One minute she won't talk to me, then she's being dramatic, then she's spazzing out, per usual, and then she's all cool and collected. I'm never going to understand this chick.

Nevertheless, she had a point, so I did as she said, standing by the door watchfully. Surprisingly, Casey felt like talking as she was doing it. I really didn't want to think about what she was doing, though I could hear her peeing. I always hate that, by the way. So she starts talking about some lame inane things, and I'm not listening. She could probably sense this from my noncommital responses, so she said something else, knowing I probably wasn't listening. "I'm sorry about what I said, you know. I... I guess I'm glad it was you. I could've done a lot worse than you," She admitted quietly. There was something that sounded a lot like genuine regret in her voice.

What she said affected me a lot more than I thought it would, after so long. I wanted to see her face as she'd said it. She'd kind of apologized before, but I couldn't really believe it. There was always some emotion tainting it, anger or bitterness or embarrassment. Never really sympathy. I wanted to say something back, but I didn't know what I could say. A part of me just wanted to leave it all in the past, but I really couldn't. It didn't matter, though. A few moments later, however, the toilet flushed, and Casey left the stall, clutching the tests.

Glancing at the door one last time, I turned and walked back over to the sink. Casey had already set two of the tests down. "Here, take this!" Casey said, thrusting the last test into my hands. She turned back to the sink and began washing her hands. I suddenly realized she'd peed on the stick I was currently holding and hastily dropped it. Casey whirled around to scowl at me. "Der-ek! Pick that up!" She hissed irritably. She pulled an egg timer out of her purse, setting it for five minutes, all the while still scowling at me.

"Hell no, Woman! You peed on that stick! That's just insanitary!" I exclaimed. Casey rolled her eyes at me.

"Oh, grow up, Derek. You might be a father," She scolded, bending down and picking up the test. I enjoyed the view but obviously not her words. She set the test on the counter and once again washed her hands. I stared at her blankly, unsure of what to do. As if sensing my state of mind, Casey replied, "Now... we wait. We'll know in five minutes." She was acting as tough as nails, but she looked like she was about to chew her nails, which, of course, is a disgusting habit that she doesn't adhere to. Funny. She used to say the same thing about me. Gah. Five minutes? Seriously? That might as well be an eternity.

So I decided that it was basically my job to somehow distract her. And myself. So, naturally, I did what I do best. I was kind of an ass. What else is new? I moved closer to Casey rather predatorily. She was leaning against the counter, tapping her nails against it impatiently. Her posture was straight and stiff in a way that made it clear she was already uncomfortable and uptight (what else is new?). It's my duty to shake things up, so I moved in smoothly. Smirking, I leaned in closer to her, knowing it would make her feel uncomfortable, but in a way she knew how to handle. She could just push me away. It's kinda a lot harder when there's possibly a kid involved. That's a little messier to get rid of.

"So, I was your first, then?" I murmured conversationally, smirking. Okay, so maybe I was feeling pretty damn smug about it. I mean, you don't expect me to not say anything about it? Might as well relish it. Predictably, Casey's eyes shot up from the tests and over to me.

"Don't gloat," She hissed. "But yes," She conceded mere seconds later. I basked in the glow of my achievement. You better bet I didn't listen to her and kept right on smirking. Casey glowered at me, but I didn't let that phase me. After all, out of all of the guys, she said yes to me. She _begged_ me to have sex with her. I'm not going to forget that. I'm not going to forget that I was the first and last and only guy she's ever been with, that I'm the only one who knows what it's like. That I'm the only one who has ever had her purring in my ear. That my name's the only one she's moaned. That I'm the only one who's touched her. So I'll gloat if I damn well please.

I remembered what she had said earlier and decided to comment on it. "You're the one who said you were glad it was me," I pointed out smugly. Casey made a face, probably regretting it already. Can't say I blame her. Your words will incriminate you. I know that a hell of a lot better than she does.

Casey nodded distantly. "I did say that." I thought she was going to take it back. But she didn't. "I was," She affirmed, offering me a weak smile. Okay, I really don't get this girl sometimes. I mean, what exactly is she glad about again? I keep getting the feeling it's that I was gentle and usually patient, and, most importantly, good in the sack... So, wait, does that mean she isn't glad now that it was me? Man, there's really too much to worry about here. Casey is such an emotional rollercoaster and a whack job.

She, like myself, was struggling for words. So I found myself interrupting and speaking for her. "Why?" I blurted suddenly, burning to know. In truth, I didn't really want to know, but I couldn't stop myself from asking. Casey's eyes widened at the question, and she bit her lip. She stayed like that, quiet like that, for a long time. I thought she wasn't going to answer.

Case cleared her throat, holding her neck up and eying me as if to judge whether I was fishing for compliments. I wasn't. I just wanted to know, and for want of anything better to do, I'd actually asked. Casey shrugged, wrapping her arms protectively around her middle again. She tilted her head to the side and looked over at me. "Because you cared," She told me in a weak voice. Her eyes darted down immediately afterward. "And I guess I was flattered. Because no one had ever wanted me like that for me, you know? They all just wanted my body or the boost to their egos or... whatever... and when they didn't get what they wanted... that was that. But you stuck around, even when I was a total bitch, and you were still nice to me when you could've rubbed my face in it like I deserved," Casey admitted slowly.

Not that she looked up at me. It was both a surprise and a relief and, at the same time, a swift pain, to hear her say these things. I hadn't expected it, but I'd wanted to hear it. Only now that I had, it didn't sound as good as I'd imagined. The words were awkward, too casual, not at all up to her level. Casey sighed. Her arms wrapped ever tighter around her waist, constricting herself, as if binding herself in, commanding her waist to remain the same size, commanding herself not to be pregnant. She glanced up at me briefly through her lashes. "And I guess I kind of respect you... because you tried to stop it, and I can't blame you for not stopping, not really. It's not fair to you... This whole mess is my fault."

Now that was a stunner. I gaped at her for perhaps a solid minute. I had never really known she felt that way, per se, but I'd always secretly suspected it, and now that she was exonerating me. Still, I wanted to reassure her, you know? Because it does take two to do the horizontal tango. This whole separate lives thing... it's a lot harder than I realized. Because our lives will be forever entwined. Whether either of us likes it or not, that's the way it is. And in some respects we lived more separate lives when we hated each other than now. Fate just likes to keep throwing us together, I guess.

"It wasn't just you, okay, Casey? I was a complete asshole, and I'm sorry for that. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. A lot of awful, unacceptable things, and I deserve to be punished for them. Honestly, I'm lucky you didn't press charges for anything I did to you... extortion, assault, rape... I'd probably deserve anything you could level at me," I said. I never felt guilty before her, but now, these past days, I've felt guilty about every last little thing. I keep thinking about how each thing must've hurt her, and that hurts me. Let's face the facts... I've blackmailed her, treated her horribly, tried to humiliate her in any way possible, spread lies about her, was certainly too rough with her, and I practically forced her to have break-up sex with me. Our "relationship" might very well be classified as abusive.

And whose fault is that? Mine.

What I did weighed on me more than I care to admit. Because undoubtedly I messed her up. Getting involved with a guy like me messes a girl up. I know that. I'm not ignorant of it. And a girl like Casey? Even worse than the others. I mean, even a seasoned veteran's at risk with me... but Casey? It's a wonder I haven't completely destroyed all her ideals and ideas about romance.

Casey shook her head and looked at me again. Her tone was serious. "I can't let you go on blaming yourself for everything. I had no right getting involved with you when I knew I didn't feel the same. I knew there was next to no chance of me ever returning your feelings... and still, I led you on! No, what I did was worse than that!" Casey exclaimed, becoming more emotional and effusive as it went on. She looked distraught. I'm sure I looked like a statue, but hearing her say it like that.... hurt. Next to no chance. Ouch. I wondered whether she was right.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she was grasping, flitting from thought to thought. "I was just so mixed up and confused... My head wasn't in the right place... And you were there, and you l-lo-l..." She began, faltering only when she met my eyes and was unable to say it. As if mentioning it meant the breaking of some secret rule. I was kind of glad she didn't, though. In the past it had been so easy for her to level that against me. Casey cleared her throat, trying to make up for her misstep. She made sure to enunciate the beginning of her next statement, though the words gave her trouble.. "You were _fond _of me... for whatever reason, and, I don't know... I didn't want to hurt you, to crush you, to let you down... because you had been so good to me... and I somehow thought that telling you the truth would be worse than a lie," She explained in a woe-stricken, desperation-laden tone. Were those tears in her eyes?

I'd never thought of it like that because it had always seemed to me like more of a revenge thing, and I was inclined to believe she'd done the whole thing out of cruelty rather than misplaced kindness. But apparently that's what it was... That and fear.

She blinked hard, like she was blinking back tears, and it made me feel bad because I was the source of that. "Because I didn't want to just be some **slut! **And I wanted to be with somebody because then I wouldn't have to stand on my own and figure things out... So I used you instead. I _used_ you, Derek. And that wasn't right. I was with you because... because I liked the way it made me feel," Casey shouted. Oddly she said the last comment as if it was the greatest sin. And then her hands were flying through the air, and she was shaking, and her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were wet and bright pink, but her eyes were still hard and stubborn but also guilty and pain-stricken... and she was too damn beautiful.

Of course I knew that she used me. I'd as much as accused her of it at the time. So why did it bother repeating? Just to reinforce how not okay it was? Just another slut is what she meant, though. She didn't want to be a notch on my bedpost... which she would've been if she'd just had the one-night stand with me. I guess. Girl logic doesn't always make sense.

And then I was speaking. The words poured out from my mouth almost against my will. I couldn't have stopped them if I'd tried. "I'm glad you did, though, as sick as that is. Otherwise I would've never known what it was like... and I'm not going to regret it, _any_ of it, as flawed and messy and unbalanced and screwed up as it was," I proclaimed in a low, grim voice that was half-groan. And it was all true. Because it was worth it. It really was. And, for the briefest, shining moments, it felt like it was reciprocated... and it's good to know what that's like.

I'm a better person for it, really. At that moment, I wanted to touch Casey, to put my hand on hers or something reassuring because I didn't know what the hell to do when she was a wreck like this. Never did and still don't. This is why I mistakenly slept with her the last time. Man, that was stupid. But definitely worth it... mmm, good. The memories are practically enough to subsist on. Except that they're not realities. So I didn't touch Casey.

However, I did move closer to her. She didn't move away. I wondered how to comfort her. As I fumbled with these thoughts, of course, the freaking egg timer went the hell off. What wonderful timing. Casey offered me a tight, nervous smile. Her whole body looked strained, kind of like a violin with the strings tuned too tight, like they would snap if pressure was applied. "Time to find out if we're parents." It was meant as a joke, but it didn't come out like one. To think, in only a couple of seconds, my whole life could change.

Would it be for the better or for the worst, I wonder? Casey moved to turn around, but my hand shot out and covered hers before she could. Stupid, stupid me! Why on Earth did I do that? She froze, and I started to seriously sweat it out, but then she visibly seemed to relax a little under my gaze. Her smile softened a little, became just a little more real. If we'd been holding hands, she would've maybe squeezed mine, but I don't know. Either way, she turned a moment later and picked up the tests, looking at each one.

I didn't bother to look over her shoulder. That would've been creepy. Instead I watched her face in the mirror. At first she had a surprisingly convincing poker face, poring over those tests, but then she slowly started to relax. She frowned coming to the last one and set it down with shaky fingers. Her hand slipped out from mine finally. I was just kinda glad she hadn't told me to let go. Then Casey seemed to shake it off and leaned over, pressing down on the soap dispenser, lathering up her hands, and rinsing off the soap. I knew before she said it, but I needed to hear her say it. "So, Lamby-Pie, are _we_ pregnant?" I questioned almost mockingly, so cocky and sure of the answer, sure I was pissing her off.

She dabbed at her eyes with the backs of her wrists and let out a half-hearted laugh. I graciously handed her paper towels to dry off her hands. She quietly thanked me and threw them away before turning to face me once again. I cocked an eyebrow like I didn't know. I needed to know for sure. "According to two of the three tests, I'm not pregnant... I think that the one you dropped gave the false positive, and that's what I think it is. If... if the other two tests are wrong, I'll, um, let you know," Casey told me, exhaling heavily like it was this great relief. And it was. I'm sure it was a great relief that she wasn't pregnant with my kid. Especially to her.

Me, I didn't really know how to react. She might as well have said "Congratulations, you're NOT going to be a father." Not that I want to be one or anything, again, but it'd be Casey's kid, right, and I like her well enough, so I suppose it could be decent... Casey blinked at me in confusion, surprised at my utter lack of a reaction. You and me both, honey. "Aren't you going to jump for joy? You won't be tied down by a kid in the future. You can go on doing what you want..."

Sometimes, Casey, we want to be tied down. Not that I told her that, of course. Doing what I want gets sour after a while, especially when I can't do what I want the most (or rather who), which is, again, of course, her! She was even more weirded out by my continued lack of a reaction either way. I guess she thought I'd be vocally expressing my thanks or something. "I can show you the tests if you don't believe me..." She offered hesitantly.

I felt rather than saw her look at me and studiously ignored her. Not too well, though, apparently, because I was still watching her out of the corner of my eye. I shook my head slightly, indicating that I didn't want to see the results, and Casey nodded dutifully, brushing the evidence off the table and throwing all of it in the trashcan. She washed her hands again, twice, soap and everything, and covered up the boxes and test strips with wet and dry paper towels. She did all of this without saying a word to me. I didn't speak either. I was wondering about what my life could've been.

Had the test gone differently, not that I wanted it to. Still, I felt kinda like I lost something. But how can you lose something if you never had it in the first place? I don't know, but that's what it felt like... Or maybe it just reminded me of exactly what I'm lacking? Forced me to face it, even.

"Are you okay, Derek?" She asked me uncertainly. Damn. She's looking at me funny, like I'm the one with the problem here. How's that for irony? Like she isn't the one who was just a complete nervous wreck. Like she isn't the one who just found out that she's probably not pregnant. And just a probably. Not even a for sure, you know? Because that one test said positive. She still doesn't necessarily completely know for sure. All of the sudden it's like nothing freaking happened again... And I can't do it.

"Yeah... I'm fine," I replied somewhat dazedly. No, I wanted to say. I'm not. I haven't been _okay_ for a while. I haven't been _okay_ since I fell in love with you. And I certainly haven't been _okay_ since you broke up with me. God, I hate that flipping word. I am not okay. And I don't want to be not okay. I mean, I want to be okay. And I'm not not okay from a lack of trying here or anything. Damn, why does this have to be so hard?

"Is something wrong, Derek?" Casey asked in this sweet, sensitive little voice of hers. No, of course not. I'm just warring with myself here. Don't you see I'm perfectly fine? She gingerly put one of those little, delicate hands of hers on my shoulder, and it felt like she was tearing my insides apart. Her _concern_ is killing me. Her eyes were bluer than ever and prying into my business, and it was just too much because she was _so_ close, coming closer. It was off-putting, and there was a recent time when that had been all I wanted, but not now. Don't rub my face in it, Case. Oh, I wanted to shove her away and run out of there, but I couldn't do that. Not without looking like a madman.

And, if she was actually pregnant with my kid, then I'd be the asshole father who pushes the mother of his child around. I don't want to be that kind of guy. I'm not that big of an asshole. "No," I lied abruptly. I was awful proud of myself; I was able to do it staring her right in the face. At least she hadn't asked what was wrong. Because then there was no way I could get out of it. The truth would just spill out.

I miss you.

There it was.

There was a strange tension in the air, something awful eerie about it, and the whole moment was still. The bathroom was silent, and we were both just there, staring at each other like a bunch of spooks, both of us afraid to end it. But I knew the moment couldn't go on. So I ruined it by loudly clearing my throat, trying to snap back to business. But my heart wasn't in it. Oh well, doubt that she noticed. "Um, so now that my presence here is no longer required, I guess I'll just be going now," I said awkwardly, inwardly cursing myself for sounding so transparent, so off-guard, so out of sorts. I'm not supposed to be like that, and not around her. She will remember and exploit my weakness. I can't hesitate.

But still, I didn't move. I eventually tried to step around Casey, but she put herself in my path and blocked me. I wondered what on earth she meant by that. "Lunch, remember?" I tried instead. "A growing boy's got to eat!" But it didn't come out the way I wanted it to, smug as all get out and cool and blowing-her-off. Nevertheless, I tried to walk around her, and this time she didn't get in my way. I walked past her, refusing to allow myself to look back at her, knowing she would catch me staring.

I could feel her gaze burning a hole into my back, but I didn't deign to check. What good would knowing do? "Oh, Derek?" She inquired, raising her voice a little so I can see her. I didn't turn to look but gritted out a grumpy "what?" instead. Her voice wavered, and I could tell her resolve weakened some. "Just... This incident... never happened, all right?" OF FREAKING COURSE! Why the hell didn't I see that one coming?

At that comment, my fingers slipped so hard they fell off the lock entirely. I'd already been having trouble, but my concentration was just shot after that. I hated myself already for the ready reply I knew I was going to give. "You got it, Dear. It's over and done with. My lips are sealed 'til the grave." My fingers still fumbled with the lock, which stubbornly refused to come undone. Great, well, that blows my grand exit, now doesn't it? It was almost like... Almost like someone didn't want me to leave. Almost like it knew. Eventually, however, the lock gave way to my superior fingers (as they always do), and I opened it just a crack, looking out for an angry line of girls... but I saw nothing. The hallways were deserted. And, ladies and gentlemen, that is my cue to split.

But (it's like I'm torturing myself or something!) I turned around and saw Casey. She wasn't looking at me any longer. She just looked sapped of energy, drained, and tired... even a little sick. But there was a thin smile on her lips, a smile of relief and victory. She'd been through hell because of me. I felt the urge to say something in parting, but I didn't know what the hell to say. I mean, what can you say after an experience like that? See ya later, not my baby mama? I mean, really. They ought to write books for etiquette in these situations. That way I wouldn't be such an inappropriate ass all the time.

Shrugging, I tried to just wave it off. "You should really try to clean yourself up a bit, BasketCase. You look like you've just spent lunch crying in the bathroom. People might get the wrong sort of ideas about you," I quipped a bit too coldly. She was, after all, still vulnerable from her pregnancy scare, and I'd forgotten that. I'd forgotten how much a girl like Casey prides herself on being in control of her life, and how she'd lost and surrendered so much of that control lately. The smile dropped off Casey's face, and the vain girl hurried to the mirror to peer herself over to see if what I'd said was true. It was slightly true. Her eyes were red and a little puffy, and she looked like a hot mess.

But still hot, damn it.

It was disheartening that she didn't even turn around to glare at me. Whatever. I don't need her. Bitch. "Smell ya later, Cuddles." I paused, pushing the door open further. "If uh... The results of that test were, um, flawed... and you really failed it... I'll be in touch. You know where to find me," I elucidated in a rare moment of softness. Casey's head whirled around to look at me.

Stunningly, she managed to crack a smile. Despite my asshole-ness. She just rolled her eyes, shaking her head at me. "Yeah, I know. I'll see you at home, Dreamboat," She retorted with a hint of sarcasm and that freaking sexy half-smile that made me want to shoot myself. Then she shooed me out, and I was only too happy to oblige her.

I stood out in the hallway for about a solid minute afterwards, stock still. Because had that whole thing really just happened... or had it? And everything was topsy-turvy and mixed up and still so unsure. I felt like I'd been running in circles or something. I was still in the exact place I'd begun. I still wasn't wholly sure what went down, but all I knew was that it had greatly retarded my progress. I've seriously got to get over her before I become even more pathetic and out of control. It's flipping embarrassing.

God, why isn't there a Casey rehab?

Well, as the alcoholics say... one day at a time, right? Guess that's how I have to take it.

Loren ;*

Reviews are greatly appreciated. And they make me excited!

Oh, by the way, I've got this new fic, if anyone wants to check it out. Sorry, lame self-plug, but hell, I might as well. It's Lizwin (in high school, all grown up and all), and I get if you're not into that thing... but don't let that be the reason you don't look at it, you know? Because people have said they're not into that pairing, but they read the fic and it made them like it/believe it... So give it a chance, maybe? It's called Strange Attractors, and I think it's pretty twisted. Or at least, complicated. Chaos theory, secret admirers, thunderstorms, sleepwalking, unrequited love, rumors, guilt, flashbacks, unresolved sexual tension, questions Edwin can't ask and Derek won't answer... and that's just a tiny peek of what it has to offer. Anyways, I just updated it today also, or, rather, last night... so if you're bored and wanna give it a look, feel free.

Happy holidays, everyone!


	26. Notice Me Then

Okay, so here it is, the long-awaited chapter. I believe some of you were even nagging me about it. ;) And, trust me, you're gonna like this one. I could say more, but I won't because I don't want to spoil it. But maybe it'll change some of your guys' minds about the story, eh?

Anyways, it was a tough chapter to write (which is part of why it took forever, in addition to a lack of inspiration), but it had to be done this way, and pretty much had to be this long. For all the time I've had this story planned, I never figured this chapter would turn out the way it did, but the darkness of the story surprised me too, I guess, so that's why it couldn't happen all easy like it was supposed to. Anyways, a lot of this chapter surprised me, like the bit with Sam (who incidentally turns out to be entirely different in this chapter, which is I guess me feeling guilty for picking on him so much and making him so out of character and whatnot), and... Ugh, I really hate the end, but it kept tapering on when I wanted it to be done, and I'm really not satisfied with it at all, but whatever. Because I was just like, well, I could revise it... or not, and I chose not because I'm tired and annoyed with the whole damn thing and just want it finally over with because it was starting to become the chapter that never ended.

Oh, and there's some tiny spoilers for Truman's Last Chance. Nothing too specific because the episode hasn't really been shown yet, and I watched it in French, so my understanding was rather limited. But that's not really too important, and it's by the end. I was going to keep it out, but then I was just like... WHAT THE HELL, I don't care... Anyways, I'm actually proud of all the characters who show up in this chapter. Because I've so severely neglected so many of them, but the focus is Casey and Derek, so obviously they're the ones I focus most of the story on because it's in their POVs and they're the main characters of both the show and this story... And, wow, only three chapters away from the end! Can you believe it? Because I can't! I ought to have this fic finally done by the end of the year! Wow, I'm so excited!

Oh, and I don't normally like to pimp out my other stories, but... A. Feel free to look in my profile to see if there's anything else you might like, and, more importantly, B. Strange Attractors! What is Strange Attractors, some of you might ask? Why, it just happens to be my OTHER LWD fic! Only it happens to focus on a very different pair of stepsiblings. But I'm not supposed to say that because it'll make less people read it. At any rate, for a brief plot summary: Edwin plus crazy sexual tension and Lizzie equals... trouble. Edwin and Lizzie are in high school, and Casey and Derek are mysteriously estranged, but never mind them because there's so much else going on! Jamie wants Edwin's help in getting back with Lizzie, Derek's trying to get Edwin together with Lizzie, Tanya's throwing herself at Edwin, and Lizzie's trying to hook up with... Derek?! Poor Edwin just wants everyone to leave him alone. Really, it's amusing. I promise. So, anyways, check that out if you're interested (and if you're not, keep an open mind because, as my grandmother says, you'll never know if you don't like something unless you try it!).

Reviews are appreciated. Like diamonds and precious metals. Especially long ones.

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"My heart says one thing. My head says another. And now I sound like a cheesy love song!"

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I have never been so happy to get my period in my life. That was like two weeks ago. And this cold feeling of relief came over me. I was pretty sure I wasn't pregnant anyway, but just receiving the absolute confirmation of that fact made me feel so much better. I meant to tell Derek right when it happened, erm, when I found out, but that didn't exactly work out. It didn't work out because I couldn't find him.

While Derek is around more often, and he is still technically grounded... that doesn't mean I can find him. I'll see him, but every time lately I've tried to go up and talk to him, he either pulls a Houdini and somehow manages to disappear, or is otherwise so distracted by other people that there's no time for me to exchange even a couple words with him. It's really bothering me too because I know exactly what he's doing. He's avoiding me, and I wouldn't normally mind, but I have to tell him this. Not just for me, for him too, because he deserves to know.

I don't need that much of his time, just a couple minutes alone will do. It's gotten to the point where I'm so desperate to tell him that I've literally contemplated just leaving a note in his room. He's never at home when I am, somehow. It doesn't matter if I go out or stay in, Derek's just not there. I'll catch fleeting glimpses of him, but he's always gone before I can even say hi. And it's really starting to annoy me. I mean, seriously, what is he, twelve?

We're finally starting to get along. At least, that's what I thought. We were finally on our way to getting things back on track, to finally having a normal relationship. But lately if I so much as turn a corner, Derek just disappears around the next bend. The way he does it, too, is so insulting! It's like he's got this sixth sense about where I'm going to be or when I'm coming because he never so much as looks at me! It's alarming, too, because what if I actually was pregnant? How on Earth would I be able to get in contact with him?

I can't help but wonder if that's why he's doing it. Is he scared that I could've been pregnant? Is that why he's avoiding me? I know it's awkward, and it's going to be awkward for a while... but Derek could at least look at me, talk to me, couldn't he? Even I've realized that I can't avoid my problems, and I know I certainly can't avoid him. God knows I've tried that. Over the past couple of months, I've learned from my mistakes. And I've learned that sometimes you have to look your mistakes in the eyes and face them, see them for what they were. You can't just forget about them because every mistake is just a very painful lesson in disguise.

And... what happened with Derek... taught me a lot. A lot of painful things I've internalized, and... Things I should talk to someone about, but I can't. It's like I told Derek... I jumped into a relationship, any relationship without thinking. For once in my life, I did something impulsive. _Don't you ever want to live a little... dangerously? _Yeah, that's what I did. I took Derek up on his advice and his offer, and it was a mistake, but all mistakes have their value... I learned a lot about myself as a result, and it showed me that... there are times in our lives when we need to be wrong. But it was just that... wrong.

Everything about it was wrong. The timing most of all. I didn't love him, and I knew I couldn't ever feel that way, that the chances of me feeling that way for him were slim to none... I was still hopelessly in love with Sam. And I knew that Derek did love me, but I didn't believe it. I couldn't really believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. But still, a part of me cried out that Derek should've known better too.

Derek didn't deserve to be treated that way, and I deserved better. Period. I wasn't ready for a new relationship, and it wasn't fair for me, for either of us to try something that was doomed to end in failure. While I appreciate his attempts to... make things right, to stop me, to stop himself... And I can both understand why he gave in and forgive him for that weakness... A part of me just kind of wishes I had been a bitch and told him it was just a one-time thing. That we'd just left it at that. It would've been so much simpler.

But I didn't want to be just another one-night stand because I didn't want to be a slut. I didn't want to be like all those other girls. I wanted to be special. I wanted to mean something, to be an exception... Derek's right. I'm _not_ that kind of girl. I don't want to be that kind of girl. I'm not the kind of girl who can just have sex, give myself to a person like that, and then turn my back on him. And I can't just have sex with someone without it meaning something. I slept with Derek. I chose Derek. And there was a reason for it. It meant something, but I don't know what. The only problem is that I don't understand. I don't know why. But Derek was special, I guess.

Maybe if I had, though, he wouldn't have gotten so attached. He would've just gotten it out of his system and forgotten all about it. And everything would be so much less messed up, and now I wouldn't be caught up in the middle of this awkward situation... and I could just write it off as a one-night stand, something that happened once and must never happen again, could never happen again, and I could somehow convince myself that it had all been some awful nightmare. That I didn't still vividly remember every moment in living color. That I didn't know what my stepbrother looked like naked. That I didn't remember how the reassuring weight of his body felt on mine. That I hadn't let him do all of those things to me. That his mere presence didn't affect me in such a way as it did, so terribly profoundly.

We had needed to have that conversation. It had been time, and I owed him that much, at least. There were so many more things, though, that I'd wanted to say but had been unable to get to, to touch on, to hint at or to even express in words. I didn't even know how to say everything. So I didn't. I said what I could get out, what I could articulate as best as I could.

There was this moment in there where I'd wanted to tell him, had almost told him something I had fought not to admit to myself. The whole time I'd been fighting it, the softening in my attitude towards him, pushing down those conflicting feelings, casting aside those stray thoughts that didn't fit in with the picture I wanted of the whole affair. I wanted to tell him I was starting to like him by the end there because I was. It took some getting used to, but I was starting to come around. I liked being around him, had fun with him, and I appreciated him a lot. And who knows what would've happened if he hadn't freaked when Sam asked me out? I might not have _ever _dumped him. But that's the past, and neither of us can change it. We can only learn from our mistakes.

Obviously I didn't tell him; I couldn't. I'd already been vulnerable to him, and I didn't want to give him even more cause to gloat or do something stupid. Or give him another chance to hurt me. Besides, what would that accomplish anyway? By the time I'd figured it out, it was already too late. It really wasn't fair to Derek to tell him that, not if I want him to forget about me. I might as well not torture him with what-might-have-been because it isn't what is.

So I was walking down the hall, searching for Derek, and, of course, he's nowhere in sight. While I was looking for Derek, I literally ran right into Sam. And, I mean, I was happy to see him and everything, but I was more surprised than anything. I guess I felt a little guilty. I haven't been spending as much time with him lately for some reason. I'm just... always busy with school or dance or there's some crisis at home or... things just get in the way. What's worse, though, is the fact that I'm not too bothered by it. Sam understands, and he wants to see me more, even to the point of being a little clingy... but the really sad thing is that I don't have that kind of desire to see him, my boyfriend. I'm such a bad girlfriend. I know that.

Honestly, I'm kind of relieved I don't have to deal with him all the time. It's stressful, and I'm always thinking, always wondering with him. It's so mentally exhausting, analyzing everything he says and does, checking and double-checking for signs of lies. I smiled at Sam, who smiled back and was about to say something until I cut him off. Maybe hi? I didn't even bother with a hello, so single-minded was I in my focus. "Have you seen Derek? I really need to tell him something, but I can't seem to find him." Sam's face fell a little, and I felt bad, but the need to see Derek and tell him was just too pressing. Sam nodded, though, and gestured down a hallway.

I smiled and thanked him and was about to go in the direction he'd pointed me when he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face him. What's he want now? I gave him a questioning glance; he just gave me an easy smile. "So, any chance I could spend some time with my beautiful girlfriend today? You know, maybe after school, at Smelly Nelly's? I'll buy you a milkshake... It'll be like old times," Sam asked brightly. He reminded me of a puppy, so hopeful, so excited by the mere prospect. I was distracted and not paying much attention, so I nodded. Besides, I didn't have any reason not to go.

"Sure, Sam. I don't see why not. I'll... I'll see you later, okay?" I told him, directing a weak smile at him before turning around and going down the rest of the hallway. I'd barely heard his words, and I didn't look back. Sure enough, Sam was right about Derek's whereabouts. I caught a glimpse of him talking with some of the guys. My smile widened. Finally, I've got him cornered. He's not going to get away from me this time. I strutted right over to the circle of guys and elbowed my way through them.

Derek got this awful look on his face when he saw me. He blanched, practically grimaced, looked a little like he wanted to throw up, and it hurt. It made me want to cry just a little bit. Because he actually thought I was that repulsive, and he really didn't want to talk to me that badly. But I held my smile, forcing it as best as I could. Derek had gone silent too once he saw me, so I directed my words towards him. "Oh, good! Here you are, Derek! I've been looking for you for-_ever_! Mind coming with me for a second? I kinda need to talk to you about something important," I babbled idiotically. Derek just stared, and I cleared my throat, fiddling with my hands. "It'll just take a minute, I promise."

He finally sighed, turning to his friends. "Guys, I'll be back as soon as Spacey's done boring me to death with babysitting arrangements. If I'm not back in five minutes, one of us is probably dead," He instructed them, flashing an insincere smile. I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest. A month ago, that might've been true, but now it was just another joke I didn't find funny. I waited impatiently for him to say goodbye to those losers he hangs out with, and then we were walking side-by-side. I felt relieved and really glad that I could finally tell him. I'd been keeping it to myself for too long. "So, what's the big deal, Nut-Case? What's so important?" He asked bluntly.

It was one of few times in my life with Derek that I've seen him look so incredibly uncomfortable. It was so obvious to me that all he wanted to do was get this over with and get away from me. His eyes were looking at anything that wasn't me, and he was fidgeting with his hands, his clothes, his hair. He waved at other people, checked out other girls, acting like it was just another one of his stupid model walks. I hated him just a little bit for that. I rolled my eyes at him, stopping dead by a locker. Derek's shoulder knocked into mine on accident, and he looked as if he'd been burned or hit with something heavy. "I just thought you might be glad to know that I'm definitely not pregnant. I've been trying to tell you for two weeks now, but I could never get a second alone with you, and I figured that a Post-It note wasn't the right way to tell you that you weren't going to be a daddy. So there you go," I practically spat at him (in an undertone, of course. I don't want the whole school hearing that I could've been pregnant with my stepbrother's baby).

Just like that, there it was, that familiar anger in my veins. Who were we kidding? Who was I kidding, thinking we could ever get along, let alone have a normal sibling relationship?! This is never going to be normal. I slept with him, and neither of us can forget it! For God's sake, he was in love with me, if he's not _still_ in love with me! And I don't really see a way he can write that off, ever. As usual, he had to play it cool. "A Post-It would've sufficed, but I can understand why you wouldn't want there to be a paper trail," He replied tersely. There was an undercurrent of bitterness in his voice that surprised me.

Naturally, I opened my mouth to say something to counter his statement, because I really hadn't meant it like that... that if I'd told him that way, I would've incriminated myself or left physical evidence. I thought we were past all that, but I guess he isn't. The reason I didn't tell him that way is because he deserves better than that. It's just something you have to do in person, as humiliating as it can be. Derek spoke before I could say anything, hands on his hips. "So, was that _all_ you had to tell me?" He almost barked.

I nodded dumbly. Was he expecting something else? Isn't he even going to say anything about me not being pregnant? I don't even get a "great" or a "whoo-hoo!" or a victory dance, or anything at all?! There was no reaction on his face. His features were stony and impassive and devoid of any emotion except maybe annoyance. I thought he'd care more, that he'd be happy about this. That he'd at least feel something! But apparently being told he's not going to be a father causes the same reaction as a lecture. Why do I waste my time with this?

Derek scowled. "So then why are you wasting my time here?" He interjected. My jaw dropped. I was expecting a little annoyance, maybe, but not him to talk to me in that harsh voice like me doing this is the stupidest thing ever. It's not a waste of time for me, even though I could be doing so many other things. It's kind of a necessity to me that he knows... and I didn't even take up that much of his time! This whole conversation has taken about two minutes. "I have better things to do." I scowled at him.

"Forgive me, Derek, for wasting your precious time. I kind of figured you'd want to know whether any progeny was in the picture because the last time we talked you seemed pretty damn concerned about it. But now I wonder why I even bothered. Guess it's a good thing I'm not, then," I retorted sarcastically, turning around abruptly and starting to walk away from him. I was still glaring at him over my shoulder when I ran smack into Cory Plunkett. Our heads bumped, and Cory fell to the floor and started whining as always. I could feel Derek smirking behind me, and my anger rose even more. Actually, I could hear him laughing.

"The return of Klutzilla, everybody!" He shouted behind me. I bent down to help that nincompoop Cory up, but he flinched and backed away from me, shaking his head. Oh, grow up already! I sighed, straightening, and turned around to see Derek. Sure enough, he was smirking. "I'll see you when I see you. Until then, try not to injure any more pedestrians. Wouldn't want anyone to sue us, after all," He quipped, turning around, practically cackling. What, no pet names? Not even my name or Case or anything? Why does that bother me? I seethed and very much wanted to punch someone in the stomach. Doubtful that I'll see him anyways, what with Derek freaking avoiding me! I didn't scream his name because that's what he would've wanted.

I stomped down the hallway, still fuming, thinking _Derek, Derek, Derek..._ and all the nasty things I wanted to say to him, and some particularly murderous thoughts at that. So, of course, I manage to run straight into Truman French (luckily, he didn't fall over, and Derek wasn't around to witness it). Yet another bane of my existence. He's quite possibly the only guy I've ever met who's a bigger ass than Derek Venturi. I also really wasn't in the mood to deal with him and his mindgames. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," I told him. My voice wasn't even remotely sorry. Because why should I be sorry for anything I ever did to him? He deserved it. I kind of wished I ran him over actually, like a car, just so I wouldn't have to see his big stupid smug face and that damn deceptive smirk and that freaking perfect hair of his ever again.

So I moved to walk past him because the incident was better off forgotten, but Truman had other ideas. He grabbed me forcibly by the elbow and brought me back around to face him. To say that I was unwilling to do so is an understatement. I bared my teeth at him, just about. "Hey, maybe I ran into you on purpose," He said, smiling in that stupid easy way that had always reminded me of Derek. Like I care. And Truman so would run into me on purpose, the stalker.

It had ended for good a long, long, long time ago, and I'd tried my best to forget about him and the girl he made me for good. I rolled my eyes at him; he still hadn't let go of my elbow and was keeping me there. "What do you want, Truman? I'm really not in the mood to put up with you right now, so make it brief," I snapped, feeling a little better about getting my rage out at him. Just a little. Because he was so like Derek, it felt good. The only real difference, aside from Truman being a bigger ass, is that Truman always had this stupid magical love spell thing that sucked me in against my better judgment. But not today.

Truman sighed. "Well, Casey, I was thinking..." This oughtta be great. What, is he going to tell me he wants to get back with me too? Because, buddy, that ship has already sailed. "That I missed spending time with you." Seriously? _Seriously_? Truman licked his lips and continued, "And it's great to see you, but it'd be even better if we could... talk." I swear, only that boy can turn talk into an innuendo. He looked straight into my eyes and went for the jugular, the ultimate in emotional manipulation, with that faux sincere look of his (but I knew better than to trust him). "I'm still crazy about you," He breathed, having suddenly moved closer to me. How the hell did that happen?

Instead of having the desired effect, his words made me want to punch him in the groin. "For starters, Truman, don't think because whatever you're thinking is only going to happen in your dreams. Secondly, if you really feel that way, and I seriously doubt you do, why the hell did you wait so long to tell me, especially since we're _over_ and I have another boyfriend?" I countered irritably. He stopped me from going further.

His eyes were dark and full of mirth like always, and I hated it. "From what I hear, he sucks," He said, leaning in a bit more. I pulled back and almost laughed a little. Not now, anyways, but he used to. Truthfully, though, Sam's a better boyfriend than Truman ever was.

"You have no idea." Of course, only Derek would see the humor in that. Damn, thinking about him again. Truman looked confused, so I went back to my previous topic of conversation, what I'd been about to say before he'd interrupted. "My point is that I can't believe a single word out of your mouth. And crazy about me isn't good enough, not when I have a boyfriend who loves me. You just like the chase. You don't really want a relationship. You just want what you can't have, and you'd get tired of me the minute I gave in. You ruin these things for yourself, Truman. So, no, you don't have a snowball's chance in hell with me, Truman... I'm all out of last chances. So just save your breath, okay, and don't even bother," I explained so bluntly I knew it would hurt, but did he really deserve any better than that?

I can't deal with a person who's only decent and normal half the time. I just can't... not that I'm even interested in him anymore because I'm not. My life's already so confusing without him in it, you know? Then I removed his hand from my elbow, turning my back on him, and left, still full of wrath. Man, I should really talk to Paul, shouldn't I? Class hasn't even started yet, and I've already ran into two exes and my current boyfriend. With the way things are shaping up, I'm bound to run into Max and Scott next, and then maybe Trevor or Noel.

So, since I was feeling severely unbalanced and completely furious, I changed course and started to head in the direction of Paul's office. I could afford to be a few minutes late to class anyways, and of course Paul would write me a pass. There was a lot I needed to talk to him about. As I was rounding the corner to go to Paul's office, I briefly caught Derek's eyes on the stairs... and promptly ran into someone else, dropping all my papers. I really hoped Derek hadn't seen that because I had the feeling I was going to say something really stupid if he teased me again. I looked up, collecting my papers, and was shocked to see a very familiar face.

I was staring straight at my dear cousin Vicky. She smiled at me in that smug way she has. "Cousin. How nice it is to see you again." Her voice was as warm as it always is, you know, around the temperature of Antarctica. She was lying, too, one of many things her and Truman have in common. But what I'm wondering is what the hell is she doing here?! This is my school, my turf, my terrain, not hers. She doesn't belong her, and right now, I really want to kick her out because she doesn't go here.

However, this time I was determined not to lose to her any longer. After all, what does she have on me? Nothing. "You know, Vicky, you are so right. It is really nice to see you again. Especially with clothes on and not underneath my stepbrother in my bed," I replied in a similar tone, dropping all warmth from my voice. Vicky scowled at me. Oopsie, did I forget that she hates being called Vicky?

She forced a smile. "Speaking of that _big_, bad stepbrother of yours, where is he? I have a present for him," She asked, sounding perfectly poised as always. I was just waiting for her bitchy comment, really. Like, seriously, what's the present, her?

I rolled my eyes at her. Obviously he's behind me, sitting at the top of the steps like it's his own personal throne. Is she blind or just stupid? "You're a bit late. His birthday was two months ago." And, if I recall correctly, _I _was his birthday present. Didn't he say I was the best one he'd ever gotten? Vicky laughed musically and gave me a look. "And, really, if the present's you... Well, it seems pretty stupid to give him something he and everyone else has already had." Yes, I do realize the irony in that statement.

Ha! That one got her, but I didn't feel too good about it. She just blinked and turned her nose up at me. "Like it matters, Ice Queen. Maybe we don't all want to be prudes like you... Derek sure doesn't care. Now, if you don't mind, I'm here to see him, and I'd actually like to see him." The order for me to show her where he was was unspoken, and I rolled my eyes at her, gesturing behind me where I'd seen him last. Vicky smirked at me, of course, fake as the day she was born. "Thanks, Case. Oh, and do watch where you're going next time. Wouldn't want to hurt anyone, now would we?" She told me insincerely, breezing past me. I made a face at her behind my back. Bitch. And, yes, Vicky, I would very much like to hurt you right now.

Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a sufficiently bitchy comment to say back to her. Why does that always happen around her? I could only watch as Vicky sashayed across the hall and strutted up the stairs until she reached Derek. He smiled at her rather genuinely, and she leaned into him and whispered something in his ear that made Derek's smile widen. The mischievous look in his eyes hinted at what she'd told him, and it made me sick to my stomach. Derek waved goodbye to his friends and went down the stairs with Vicky in tow. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders so easily, so intimately for a man who hated PDA. They were like a car crash: trashy and destructive and arresting and a complete mess, but I just couldn't look away.

She giggled at something he said, probably something suggestive judging by the smirk that seemed to be permanently affixed to his lips and the twinkle in his eye. Ugh, what does he see in her besides the obvious resemblance? She's a total bitch, and she's shallow and petty and unpleasant. How can he like that? The two of them were walking towards me, and Vicky surprised both of us by leaning in and kissing Derek in the middle of the hallway. He stopped walking and closed his eyes and just let her. He wrapped his arms around her, got into it, groping and everything, and, wow, he'd changed.

Why does this feel like my glass slippers have broken and I'm stepping on gritty little jagged pieces of glass? Why does it feel so sharp, so cutting? Because both of my tormentors have united to cause me pain?

My slutty cousin was sure enjoying it, all right. They looked like they were devouring each other's faces, and I was disgusted. She'd also as good as marked her territory. That's the main reason why Derek hates PDA. He likes to seem available so girls will check him out. After a while, they had to break for air, and Derek pulled away grinning. "Come on, babe, let's get out of here," He said loud enough so I could hear it, keeping his arm around her. His arm fell to her waist, skimming down her back. They walked towards me in what seemed like slow-motion, looking for all intents and purposes to be the perfect couple.

But they weren't, and it annoyed me that they pretended to be. The both of them waltzed over to me, amused by the look on my face and how flustered I seemed. Derek brushed by me but didn't touch me. He just threw me a smirk over his shoulder. "Careful, Klutzilla. You could've hurt my girlfriend earlier," He said, like I actually cared. How could I ever hurt Vicky? She's practically soulless. As far as I'm concerned, I've done a lot for that girl, and all she's ever done is screw me over and be a big pain in my ass. At that point, I wanted to stab her in the forehead with my sharp pencil.

Vicky, however, did touch me. She positively beamed like a freaking sunbeam when Derek dropped the g-word and then turned to me, still starry-eyed and sunny. "Don't be jealous, Casey. I'm sure you'll find somebody too," She said in a voice that sounded actually sympathetic for once. I couldn't figure out whether or not she was being genuine. Being a lying bitch-face, probably not. She patted me on the shoulder and then smiled up at Derek conspiratorially and let out a little laugh. "Not anyone as great as Derek, of course, but you'll find someone," She repeated soothingly. But all I heard was _bitch, bitch, bitch_.

I was about to point out that actually, I did already have a boyfriend, and that no, Vicky, I'm not that pathetic, when I realized two things. One being that Derek had just called Vicky his girlfriend... _girlfriend_! And that just about floored me. I couldn't believe that my trampy cousin was giving me unsought advice on attracting men, trying to encourage me when I already had somebody! Secondly, Vicky was sure acting like she thought she was Derek's girlfriend, like they had a real relationship. It made me so angry because they didn't really have a real relationship. She's... what? An extended booty call? She's not girlfriend material.

So, instead, I retorted immediately, "Trust me, he's **not** that great!" I said it with more vehemence than I meant to, and it came out sounding defensive. Derek's eyes widened at what I was obviously referring to, because he'd taken it in the way I really meant it, the obvious way. He looks kind of offended, and I relish it, me affecting him for once. Vicky knew no such subtlety (or, in this case, obviousness... What, seriously, she didn't sense that something was off?) and didn't read it that way. She just rolled her eyes, thinking "typical Casey who has to devalue things I like, and she's really got Derek all wrong." Derek continued looking at me in that surprised way, so I huffed and flipped my hair. "And, anyways, for your information, I already have a boyfriend. I'm dating Sam, Derek's best friend," I decreed, trying to regain the dignity I'd lost.

Vicky frowned a bit. "Oh, that's the gay-looking one, right? Wow. You really do know how to pick 'em, Cuz," Vicky replied casually. I glared at Derek. Had he told her? Was he really that loose-lipped and cruel, and if so, what else had he told her? And how dare she make me feel not desired! Two ex-boyfriends have tried to get back with me, not to mention that her supposed "boyfriend" was at one point and is _supposed_ to still be in love with me! She gave me another one of those quasi-sympathetic looks that might actually mean something if she wasn't such a bitch. I resemble that remark, Vicky.

I'm about to say something else, probably something stupid, but Derek's eyes are on mine, and Vicky doesn't notice. It burns, his stare. And then he leans in, tugs on her and pulls her to him, presses his lips to hers. He kisses her with his eyes open this time, that one eye I can see focused on me. His stare's dark and intent, and it makes me burn inside. I see a flick of his tongue, the way he enjoys every minute of the kiss but stays in control. His eyes don't roll back in his head, but he tilts his head the right way, moves his lips just fine to catch hers in all the right spots. His tongue's in her mouth, sliding across her lips, I catch a flash of his teeth as they separate momentarily, watch him suck on her bottom lip. I hear the stupid wet smacking sounds of their lips, and I become even more sick to my stomach.

It's almost like seeing a mirror image, like I traveled back in time. I never realized just how much she looks like me. If I squint, I can see myself there with him, like a slut, all over him. It makes me feel cheap and dirty. I can see me in her, despite her sharp angles and my curves. It's like I'm having an out of body experience, almost like he's kissing me again but I can't feel it, and the whole thing makes me feel wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. My stomach churns violently, and I feel like I'm going to throw up on the spot.

Derek straightens up a little, flushed with pride at seeing me turn green. He runs his fingers through her hair, which is long and down and falling around her face, and so straight. He puts his hands in the right places, on her shoulder, tracing circles on her back, and then back up to her face. He rubs the side of her face with the back of his hand, cups her cheek before finally placing his hand on her neck. And he never takes his eyes off me, not once, the entire time. Not even when he pulls away, and Vicky's lips are still pouted, and her eyes are still closed, and she looks so scarily in love with him that I feel guilty for it.

He smirks then, like he's made some great victory by flaunting Cousin Victoria in my face. He knows she's a sore spot for me, and that I've had issues with her in the past, and why's she always taking my things? Then he turns back just in time to tenderly meet Vicky's gaze. Like he's the greatest boyfriend ever, when really all he is is the best liar on the face of the planet. Derek pretends he's a sap and tucks a strand of unruly hair behind her ear, and Vicky smiles almost shyly, and I _hope_, hope against hope that she doesn't really like him, but I think she does. For a second I want to warn her, but then she looks back and sees me, and the looks on their faces match, and the sympathy turns to disgust all over again.

"You know, Vick, I'm really glad you came to visit. I think one dose of you is exactly what I needed to spice up an otherwise unremarkable day," He tells her, grinning. He grabs her hand and looks excited, almost like a schoolboy, and I wonder how he doesn't choke on the incredible falseness of the gesture. I'm really trying not to gag because it's just so corny and so not Derek. I can't believe Vicky buys the act, but she just looks so happy to be in on the play. She's happy and I'm... not, really. It's a sobering revelation. I mean, she doesn't even expect anything of Derek, yet she's got that grin on her face, and she's not a stupid girl.

Me, I've got a loving boyfriend, and I need excuses to stay away from him. So who's really in the messed-up relationship here? But it's my turn to be a bitch, so I raise my voice and snap them out of their little dream world. "Really, Derek? Because you didn't seem to be missing Vicky last night. Especially when you brought home Crystal. Now, wait, was she the blonde or the redhead?" I remark viciously because he deserves to be exposed and nailed to the wall for this one thing. And he's not who my cousin thinks he is. Vicky's face falls a little, and Derek's eyes get simultaneously desperate and pissed at the same time. Vicky pulls away from him, and Derek tries to appeal to her.

"That was before you were my girlfriend. We're official and exclusive now, and there won't be any other girls. I promise. I want to make this work with you. I... I really like you, Victoria," He tells her. I shake my head. Excuses, excuses. His promises aren't worth a thing. It's all just one big pack of lies anyway. You can't believe his promises, girl, and you're stupid if you do. He makes sure to say the right name, her full name, like the queen, not rhyming with icky, and not my name. I think he hopes it'll make him sound more sincere.

And he takes her hand and has that soft look in his eyes, like he wants you to believe him. She just stares at him for a moment, then she looks at me. I'm surprised no one's accused me of lying, but that's probably because I'm not and they both know it, and this is just a painful reminder that I was right about them. Then she tears her eyes away from me, thinks it over a minute, and I already know how this is gonna go. She gives in (easily, of course), like they all do except for me. Then she smiles and kisses him. "The past is better off forgotten anyways," She tells him, like it's no big deal. She's such a good actress that it doesn't seem like a lie, but I know it is from the look in her eyes when she pulls out of his embrace. It's brief, but it's there.

Derek glances over at me, just for a moment, and heartily nods his agreement. "You're right," He agrees, and just like that, he's starting to forget. "What's past is past. Over, done, and best put behind us." Right, Casey? I can see it in his eyes. That stings. It feels like those shards of glass embedded in my feet but worse. I take it like a knife to the stomach, and I feel like I've been stabbed in the back. I'm bleeding everywhere only on the inside. It's such a sharp, stinging pain, an easy cut that blooms and grows until it's taken me over completely, and it's like I'm cut right down the middle. It's all I can do to stay standing, and I'm staring at them, and I feel like a voyeur.

And I hate this part so much. He smiles at her genuinely, hand wrapped intimately around her wrist. He gets all excited, then, practically running past me and out the door with her in tow. "Now, I believe you said something about wanting to show me something in the back of my car?" I hear the flirtatious tone in his voice as he leaves and the door starts to shut behind him, and he laughs and sounds really happy, and for some reason, I hate it. I don't want him to be happy with her. I don't want to be stuck with that image, forced against my will to picture them together like that.

I don't go to Paul's office, not then. I go to class upon realizing that the bell has already rung, and I'm standing there like an idiot. I'm seven minutes late, but I don't care. And it doesn't matter because all I'm doing the whole class period, and the one after that, is thinking about where Derek is and what he's doing with Vicky, and, oh, God, I want to throw up so badly. My stomach burns and boils and bubbles and tries to revolt, but I won't-can't let it. I don't see Derek until much later, around lunch time.

His hair's more messy than usual, no doubt tousled by Vicky's hands. His lips are unusually pink, and traces, smears of Vicky's lipstick remain there. He has a hickey forming on his neck that looks like a fresh bruise, and he wears it like a sign of pride. I freaking know he's been with her, and I hate that I know, hate that it's so obvious. His clothes are rumpled, and Vicky isn't with him, but I bet he smells of her too. Her and sweat and sex and the back of the Prince. I know that smell; I've done it before. Only substitute her for me, and the driver's seat for the backseat. I remember how uncomfortable it was, and how fast my heart was beating and how the steering wheel dug into my back, and I didn't like it too much, being perched on his lap, but it felt so good, and he knew just how to make me like it enough.

Mostly, I hate how I care. I shouldn't care. It's none of my business, only it is because she's my cousin-slash-worst-enemy, and he's my stepbrother-slash-former-lover-slash-arch-nemesis. And I hate most of all that he still looks absofrickinglutely gorgeous, and that I want him now more than I did before, even though my cousin's dirty hands have been all over him, and he's all _hers_ and spoiled. And it disgusts me but attracts me at the same time, and I hate it because I was never like this before. I don't want to be like this, and I hate myself for it. I was never really jealous of her, of them, but now I am, and I'm drowning in it, choking on it. And he's so damn smug, and I know he's enjoying my discomfort.

And I can never, ever tell him because that'd just be the icing on the cake, and he'd like it way too damn much. He moves towards me and walks past me in slow motion, like something out of a movie, glossy and gloriously messed-up and perfect. And, suddenly, painfully, everything I want, and all I can think of, and utterly _mesmerizing_... And now I know how Emily feels. It sucks harder than Sam, not that I would know. And suddenly, my world's sorta turned upside-down, and nothing makes any sense anymore, and I don't understand myself, and I just want to find that one thing to ground me.

I glanced over to my side, feeling a presence there. Emily was standing next to me, and I was relieved to see her there. She smiled over at me. "He looks really good today... happy," She commented, staring at him with the trained eye of an expert. I nodded numbly and gazed at him in silence. She was right, too. I haven't seen him like that since before I broke up with him. Is Vicky the reason? I felt her eyes turn to me yet again, flicking between myself and Derek as if she was observing something. There was a question in her eyes, but I didn't know what it was.

I sighed instead, hoping the answer I was about to give was the right one. "Derek and Vicky are officially dating now. She's his girlfriend, meaning he's going to stop cheating on her. And he's fresh from having sex with her, by the looks of it," I informed Emily in a monotone. My voice was devoid of the disbelief I felt. The surprise showed on Emily's face; she hadn't known that. Emily pulled her notebook out of her backpack and started furiously writing, adding on to Derek's page. Well, I know at least one entry there that's not listed.

Moi. Emily looked somewhat scandalized at the way I spoke so frankly of his sex life, but it had all become so matter-of-fact to me, what with being a participant and having to hear and see him and put up with him having sex all over the place and catching Sam in the bathroom and the pregnancy tests... It wasn't such a big thing anymore, and I could talk about it bluntly. Emily glanced up from her notebook, frowning. "Hey, isn't that the girl Derek's in love with? You told me about her a long time ago," Emily asked, remembering. I could barely recall that conversation, only my rage at Derek and how he'd been so obvious.

Forcing a smile, I briefly debated what to say. There was no, which was technically the truth, and yes, which was a fabrication that made more sense. Emily couldn't know the truth, not that she'd understand it even if I told her, and I can't do that. I eventually gave in and nodded. "Well, my cousin Vicky is definitely his girlfriend now. You should've seen them in the hallway earlier. Their PDA was really disgusting," I continued, grimacing. Did she realize that I never actually answered the question?

Emily turned to me again, looking very surprised. "Public displays of affection? Derek?" She asked incredulously. No, I'm not mistaken. I know who I'm talking about. I nodded dully, and Emily continued to gape. He's never really been big on them. It's part of the reason why we worked out for a while there. I didn't pressure him or expect much of anything, and we were both perfectly fine with hiding the physical stuff. I didn't want anyone to see me like that, all discomposed and flushed with guilt.

"Oh, yep, they made kissy-face right in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see. You know, he even called her his girlfriend too. Said he really liked her and a whole bunch of other crap," I practically spat. A moment later, I realized how that came out and glanced over at Emily to see if she was suspicious. I sounded like a jealous girlfriend. And I am. That's the worst part. I'm his ex-girlfriend, and my cousin's the next one. I mean, really, who's next? Lizzie, my mom, Aunt Fiona? There aren't that many women in my family left. Ugh, it felt like I'd been replaced by my slutty cousin, and it made me feel dirty.

She was so stupid to believe him, though. Emily looked even more astonished. "Wow. What he feels for this girl... it must be real, then," She remarked, jotting down some more notes. I gaped at her. Hello, did you miss any of what I just said? Did you hear my tone? Do you know Derek? He is never sincere. He never does anything unless there's something in it for him. In this case, it's Vicky continuing to have sex with him. I shook my head, silly Emily, still believing in fairytales. A guy like Derek can't change... and I would know.

"Oh, no, it's refreshingly inauthentic," I interjected, even though my brain was still running over her words. In a way, they had been true... just never for Vicky. That's ridiculous, of course, though. Derek must be almost over it now if he isn't already. He's very resilient that way, and he's made it clear that the past is no more. So why am I obsessing over it? "He was probably saying it just to get laid." And maybe, just maybe, to piss me off. I turned up my nose, forcing myself to look away from him. "Ugh, I bet you could smell her on him." Thinking about Derek and Vicky made my stomach turn like a key in a lock, sharp and snappy.

When I looked over at Emily, she was staring at me with curiosity written all across her face. She couldn't comprehend my disgust or else the vehemence of it surprised her. It shouldn't have, of course. Not with everything I've had to put up with lately. "Casey, are you... feeling all right?" She asked, looking concerned. I thought about it for a minute. Right now I'm not acting like myself, clearly. I'm not the chipper, perky, bubbly, prim-and-proper, overdramatic keener Casey. I don't really care about school at the moment, and for once I'm not really complaining about how Derek's ruining my life. So of course she thinks this is weird, but in a lot of ways, I'm not that same girl I was, you know.

But am I feeling all right? I've been queasy since Derek's little performance with my dear cousin this morning, and seeing him even from afar after he's reeking of her and sex makes me even more nauseous. And I'm obviously not thinking straight because I can't really concentrate on anything, and my thoughts aren't making sense and... No, I'm not. I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so, Em... I feel funny," I told her simplistically. However, I couldn't quite articulate what it was that wasn't right about me, what was off, why I felt so different.

Emily put the back of her hand on my forehead, looking even more concerned. I licked my lips, which felt suddenly dry, and Emily pulled away from me frowning. "Well, you don't have a fever, but you're kinda flushed and..." She surveyed at me critically, almost skeptically, before nodding and agreeing with me. "But there's definitely something off about you. Maybe you should go see the nurse after all," She suggested. I shuddered reflexively, trying to suppress the downright awful memories I had of that woman. Trust me, I could be dying, and I wouldn't want to see that bitch.

I shook my head, swallowing hard. Just then, of course, Derek whooshed past us without even a wave. All that I got was a wave of cool air hitting me in the face. Oh, and I dropped my books, but thankfully he was too busy being in love with himself to notice, thank God. And my throat suddenly felt dry all over again, and I felt the need to compulsively straighten my clothes. Was it hot in here, or was that just me? And was there any particular reason why my heart was beating so damn fast I thought it was going to come out of my chest? Was there any reason why I felt so out of breath and so, so tired, like I'd just finished running a marathon? Why my knees had almost buckled, and I felt so unstable and unsteady on my feet when my legs were grounded like tree trunks?

Maybe I should see the nurse after all... Though, on second thought, maybe it was more of a mental thing. I had meant to pay Paul an urgent visit anyways, hadn't I? I bent down to pick up my books, already tired. It had been such a long day. "Um, I think maybe it's psychological? I'd just be more comfortable talking with Paul about this... I think I'm gonna go see him. I'll, uh, see you after school, okay, Emily? I think this could take a while, and I'm really not feeling too great..." I told Emily distractedly, smiling weakly and hoping she'd excuse me from class somehow. Emily nodded understandingly, though she did look a bit confused. Then I turned on my heel and walked towards Paul's office.

I knocked on the door hesitantly, and to be honest, I almost didn't want to go in there because I had this sinking feeling that I'd go in and wind up spilling everything I'd worked so hard to conceal. However, fate decided I was to talk to Paul, because he came over and opened the door. I usually just barge in, so Paul was a bit surprised to see me standing there waiting. "Hi, Casey. This is a wonderful surprise. We haven't talked in a while... Come on in and have a seat," He said warmly, opening the door and gesturing for me to come in. I bit my lip anxiously, seeing his lunch and half-graded papers on his desk.

Don't get me wrong, we still talk regularly... It's just, I've been keeping so much to myself lately that it's been mostly trivial stuff, which used to be what I always came to him about. I couldn't tell him about the whole mess with Derek, or too many of the details about my break-up with Sam (because saying them out loud made them true, and it hurt to be reminded of the betrayal), and the war I'd been waging... We talked a lot when I first got back together with Sam, about what I should do, if I should let him in again. We talked about Max and Truman and those kind of issues. We didn't talk much about Derek, haven't talked much about him for sometime now. It was long past time now, though, and I couldn't really put off the discussion any longer.

"Am I interrupting anything? Because if I am, I totally understand if you want your privacy... I can always just come back later... I mean, it's nothing that can't wait," I babbled idiotically, desperately wanting an excuse to get out of the room. I needed an excuse to get out of telling him absolutely everything, even if it was a lie.

Paul fixed me with a look that clearly said he knew me better than that. "You're not really interrupting anything. I was just grading some papers. I'm actually pretty glad you came when you did. You saved me from falling asleep at my desk again," He told me sincerely, flashing me a smile. He motioned for me to have a seat, and I did so, but only after bolting to the door. I shut it and locked it and faked a smile and then returned to sit before his desk. If Paul was surprised, he didn't show it. What I knew I was going to tell Paul, it had to stay in here. That's all I knew. "So, Casey, you've obviously got something weighing pretty heavily on your mind. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" Paul said soothingly, leaning forward a little, doing that engaged listener thing.

I sighed and leaned heavily into the chair, closing my eyes. Where do I even start? I just looked up at Paul then, speechless, and wondering what exactly I could tell him. I was so confused about everything, and where did this whole thing even begin? I don't know anymore. Paul cleared his throat, frowning a little. I'd never had any problems talking before. "I've heard some things lately, Casey... and you don't have to talk to me about them if you don't want to, of course, but feel free... From what I understand, some of the other teachers were talking about how a string of bad events happened to you, cruel pranks and rumors, that sort of thing. They seemed rather surprised I didn't know. Do you want to talk about that?" He asked calmly, hesitantly.

Well, might as well start there. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck a bit sheepishly. Damn it, Derek does that! I dropped my hand immediately and straightened up a little. "I just didn't want to bother you with that because no one could really do anything about it. My parents, the teachers, probably not even the principal. I had Sam and Emily there to help me, and a lot of people didn't even believe the rumors. And all of that's over now, for the most part..." I explained awkwardly, timidly. Paul looked at me knowingly because maybe it was a little too clear that I knew who was behind all of it. Thankfully, he didn't ask me about that and let that description suffice.

He nodded and leaned back in his chair. "How 'bout Derek?" He asked brightly. "You never have any trouble talking about him, and I've noticed that you haven't really mentioned him a lot in our recent sessions. Is there any reason for that? Are you two getting along now?" Paul wondered aloud. I gulped hard. We were getting along. Then wasn't the right moment to tell him, so I decided to switch the subject. Of course I knew he'd be smart enough to see through that, but we'd come back around to Derek when it was time for that.

I cleared my throat. "So I ran into Truman in the hall today. He wanted to get back together or something, I think," I told Paul instead. The rage was refreshing; it made my thoughts so much clearer and more focused once again. Paul raised his eyebrows and look interested, but I could tell he hadn't forgotten about how I'd avoided the subject of my stepbrother.

"Oh... So I bet that must've been somewhat awkward. What did you tell him?" Paul questioned interestedly.

I shrugged. "I told him that he was out of his mind and that it was never going to happen. All he's interested in is the chase, you know? Once we got together, he just... didn't care as much. I've played enough games to last me a lifetime, and I'm sick of them. I don't like the person he made me, either. I was like his puppet or something, like a robot... And I don't really understand why I'm that way around guys. It's straight out of a chick flick, but I kind of... change... depending on who I'm with, and I'm better than that, stronger than that, I know... Can you tell me why I do that?" I wound up telling him a lot more than I'd meant to. It was a question that had been eating me up for a while. Every time I'm with a guy, I become who he wants to be, and I lose myself in the process. And it shouldn't be like that.

Paul looked really intrigued by what I'd just told him, so he steepled his hands and thought it over for a long moment. Then he looked up and met my eyes, offering me a little smile. "Well, obviously, Casey, you're a very independent, stubborn young woman, so I have to say it confuses me almost as much as it confuses you... Maybe it has to do with your relationship with your father?" Paul proposed. He gave me this look saying that I was free to tell him all about that relationship. I thought it over for a long, hard minute.

I've never liked talking about my dad. It hurts too much. Mom, Lizzie, Uncle Dennis, and the policemen are the only people who know, and Lizzie doesn't even know half the details. We don't talk about it much. In the spirit of full disclosure and because I thought he could help me if he knew, I decided to tell Paul. So I took a deep breath, greedily inhaling air. I'd never told anyone else, but maybe I didn't have to tell him everything. "My dad died when I was ten. He loved me a lot," I told Paul succinctly, trying not to think of it too much.

Naturally, Paul's face fell as they all did, and this look of profound sympathy crossed his face. I didn't want to see it, though, because that pity wasn't going to bring my dad back. "I'm so sorry, Casey... I had no idea," Paul murmured as a way of an apology. He might've hugged me or something if he wasn't a teacher and that wouldn't be really weird.

"Why be sorry? It's not your fault some crazy guy shot and killed him. How were you supposed to know?" I told him rather brusquely, feeling that old resentment bubble up in me. Uncle Dennis had asked his friend the D.A. to go extra hard on the guy for our sake. It wasn't what Dad would've wanted, but it was what I wanted, what I needed. He was put away for a long time, but I'll never forget his face or what I saw that day. You know, I don't even care if he had family because he broke mine, and I'm never going to forgive him for that. The expression on Paul's face changed dramatically.

He paled slightly, staring at me in disbelief. "Your father was killed, then?" I nodded, eyes quickly turning dull. I didn't trust myself to say the words and keep it together. You don't even know the worst part. Paul's eyes were full of sympathy for me. "That must've been really hard on you, losing your father at such a young age..." I nodded, sucking in a breath and trying not to cry. Harder than you could ever imagine, I wanted to say. Paul frowned then. "So, then, who... I'm not saying that anyone could take your father's place because no one else can... but you had to have some father figure, didn't you?" Paul said, very careful because he knew he was treading upon a sensitive subject.

A part of me bristled at that, but I couldn't be mad at Paul. He was only trying to help me, and he didn't mean any harm by it. "Uncle Dennis, mostly. He's my dad's brother, and he and my mom kinda had this thing, I guess. He's... a lot like my dad. There were a couple others... Mom's boyfriends, teachers, Uncle Donny... But none of them were my dad," I replied vaguely. None of them could ever replace my father, though. Paul perked up at this.

"Your Uncle Dennis... he's the one who came to visit you, right?" I nodded, dreading that question, and Paul gazed at me curiously. "You're not too close to him, are you, Casey? But you want to be closer, right?" He inquired, lowering his voice a little. We never get to see him, and he's always so busy that we don't hear from him too much. I nodded, impressed he'd been able to read me so well when I wasn't saying anything. It was a painful thing for me, so I was focusing mostly on not crying. "Because he's all you have left of your father, isn't he?" He whispered, and there he'd hit upon it, and suddenly I was sobbing.

I hadn't ever really cried like this in front of Paul, nothing this serious, and suddenly everything I was feeling was coming out. Paul hastened to place the box of tissues in front of me, and I helped myself. "I... My dad's dead, my granny's dead... he's all the family I've got on my dad's side. And it gets harder and harder to remember him every year, and Uncle Dennis... He was there for a while, but then he left us for bigger and better things. And now we never see him, and I know he's not my dad, but he's all I've got, and I miss him," I sobbed, choking out the words between cries. I didn't say how I felt like Mom kept him from us sometimes, or how George, as nice as he is, would never be a father to me.

Sniffling, I continued, wrapping my arms around myself. "They always leave, they all do... because I'm not good enough. Daddy left, Uncle Dennis left, all of my mom's stupid boyfriends except George... They ran the minute they saw me. They don't like me. I'm not enough to make them stay. I'm not perfect enough," I cried, feeling the pain of abandonment. At that moment, I knew Paul had pinpointed it, so I blinked through the haze of tears and tried to focus on him.

My vision was blurry, but his voice was soothing. "Casey, maybe the reason you change for all the guys you date is because you want them to like you. You want them to stay, so you become who you think they want you to be. Because you've been hurt too many times before when one of them left you. You need the approval you never got from your uncle, and so you seek it out from other sources," Paul explained patiently. He was right, of course. That was why I'd tried so hard to make everything perfect for Uncle Dennis' visit. I wanted his approval because he was always such a tough judge and whatever I did wasn't enough. Still, I hated Paul's description, even if I knew it was true, because I didn't want to be that weak.

Paul patted my hand lightly. "It's not healthy, but it's natural, Casey. Your father and your Uncle Dennis both loved you very much, and they both want you to be happy. Your father would want you to be happy. Just remember, you want a guy to like you for yourself... and if he can't do that, then he's not worth it. Okay?" Paul advised. I realized suddenly just how much I appreciated his advice, and I cleared my throat, wiping my eyes. I hadn't meant to get emotional or to talk about any of that. I'd come here to talk about Derek.

And, now, I knew, it was time to have the conversation I'd been dreading. I smiled weakly and sat up a lot straighter in my chair, biting down hard on my bottom lip. "So, there's something I haven't told you... and it's pretty big, like size of Jupiter big," I confessed, feeling the weight on my chest start to ease a little. It felt easier to breathe. I sucked in a deep breath, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I fumbled over the words, not knowing quite what to say or how much to reveal, but only knowing that I couldn't say too much. Erring on the side of caution, I was terribly vague.

My throat was as dry as a desert, and I was fiddling with my hands. My eyes scanned the room for an appropriate distraction, but I'd long ago memorized all the pictures and self-help posters. The sight of them only made me all the more nervous. "I didn't tell you when it hap-pened because it was all t-too much, and I was _so_ confused... I didn't want to have to figure out what it meant. It was a relief not to be constantly overanalyzing what was going on... A-and, afterwards, I didn't want to even _think_ about it and risk... finding something I didn't want to know or feel..." I continued anxiously, wringing my hands. I was finding it hard to swallow. I was so sick of my feelings that I wanted to bury them all. I couldn't even look at Paul.

I played with my hands, snapping the knuckles so hard it felt like I was breaking my fingers. Just thinking of what I was going to say next was enough to make me cringe and almost vomit up my breakfast. I hadn't eaten lunch, and, to be honest, I hadn't felt like it. I'd still been nauseous and terribly fixated on his stupid whereabouts and imagining what he was doing. I forced myself to take a calm breath. "I thought I'd put it behind me for good, that it was all over. I thought I was okay, that I was fine with that, but it's become so clear to me today that I'm _not_. I'm the opposite of okay. And I know now that this isn't just gonna go away like I want it to," I told him levelly, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

Paul's stare was intent and questioning. He blinked, seeming to absorb my words and attempting to decipher them. Then he nodded slowly and looked me over quietly, taking in the fidgeting hands, the bitten lip, the tangled hair, the clothes that had been pulled straight and smoothed one too many times. "You seem upset, Casey." I rolled my eyes at him. Thanks for stating the obvious when I really want advice and psychoanalysis. I almost snapped at him but held it in at the last moment, and the smile faded from Paul's face. "What happened, Casey? Did someone hurt you?" He asked softly. There was a worried, almost desperate gleam in his eyes.

I shook my head no vigorously, but in reality, I had to think it over. Yes, Sam had hurt me by betraying me. And yes, Derek had hurt me in almost every way imaginable. Yet here I was, alive and stronger for it. Yes, someone hurt me. I didn't voice the thought aloud though. Instead, my eyes took on a dreamy cast as I fixed them on a point beyond Paul, so I could properly explain. I felt a dull prick as I started talking. "I told you Sam and me broke up... but I never told you why. We broke up because I caught him cheating on me at a party. And after that, I was heartbroken and so mixed up, and I wasn't really thinking clearly. I... didn't want to be alone," I explained slowly, trying to make it as clear as possible.

At that moment, I chanced a glance back up at Paul, who nodded reassuringly, encouraging me to go on. His eyes were sympathetic. He made some meager statement when I told him about Sam, but I didn't hear it. I saw no judgment in his face, but I still couldn't look at him as I said it. "I've never told anyone this... And what I am about to say cannot leave this room," I informed Paul slowly, watching and waiting for him to agree with me. He nodded sincerely, and I continued nervously. "...But I was with someone then. Before I got back together with Sam. For about three weeks," I blurted, looking up at Paul at the end with shame in my eyes.

He rarely showed surprise (after everything that had happened, there wasn't much left that could surprise him anymore), but he raised his eyebrows nonetheless. He hadn't really been expecting to hear that. I can't blame him. No one expects goodie-two-shoes Casey McDonald to have a rebound relationship. Nevertheless, Paul recovered soon enough. "And you broke up with him because you were still in love with Sam, right?" He questioned knowingly. I shook my head, and his eyes went wider still.

I licked my lips, wondering how to explain it just right. "I... Was still in love with Sam, that much was true... But I didn't want to be with him again. He, the guy, he broke up with _me_ because he thought I was going to get back with Sam again. He'd heard that Sam and I were going out. I tried to explain but he didn't listen... Sam had begged me to go out with him, and I couldn't really say no... I didn't want anything to happen," I stuttered, hoping I made some sense. Apparently I'd lost the ability to speak in complete sentences.

Paul nodded, contemplating this, going over my words in his head. The majority of our sessions, he was quiet like this, listening, taking it all in. At first, I thought he wasn't listening to me, but he made it pretty clear he was soon enough. Paul placed a finger on his lips, almost as if he was pausing to figure out what to say next. "And the other guy... how did you feel about him?"

To say I stiffened when he asked that question, the ONE question I wasn't prepared to answer, is a vast understatement. I became starch. I counted my breaths, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. I could feel the hiccups, the gasping for breath bubbling up in me, and I sought to inhale and exhale slowly. My heartrate spiked, and I was doing everything I could to not think of the answer to that question. I floundered for a long time, stammering, half-mute, unable to think of anything to say. Then I found a word. "Grateful."

My voice came out clear and strong, but my breath was shaky. I was beginning to feel unwell again, and I'd become a nervous wreck all over again. Maybe Derek was right to call me a basketcase. Paul raised an eyebrow at the statement, staring at me in utter belief. I knew what he meant. That answer wasn't good enough, and I wasn't saying everything. I wasn't saying what I was really feeling at all; that was just the tip of the iceberg. Paul knew, though, when not to press me. "We'll get back to that," He said with a terse little smile. My stomach dropped, and I silently prayed he'd forget it. "So why don't you tell me what the problem is, Casey? Why are you telling me about this now?" His voice was firm, urging me.

I exhaled deeply, running my fingers over my eyes. I'm telling you now, Paul, because I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown if I don't tell someone. I let out a strangled scream into my hands, closing my eyes. When I opened them again, trying to collect myself, Paul looked supremely taken aback. "I don't know what's happening to me," I told him weakly, lowering my hands from my face. My hands were trembling. "I feel funny... Like I want to throw up, and my heart's beating all fast, and I can't breathe properly, and I can't concentrate at all or control my thoughts... and it all comes back to him. I think it's psychological," I told him quite gravely.

Paul snickered a little, and I pouted, glowering at him, offended by his laughter. This is a serious conversation we're having here! I'm baring my soul to this man, and he has the nerve to laugh at me?! Fine, just laugh at Casey the Drama Queen, why don't you? It's not like I'm falling apart all over your office here. It's not like I feel like I'm going to break, or at all like I'm completely losing my mind. I don't know what's wrong with me, but it's something, all right, and Derek's at the bottom of it, I just know it! He always is.

A sober, slightly apologetic look crossed Paul's face, but the ghost of a smile remained on his lips. "I'm sorry, Casey. I didn't mean to laugh." I don't see what he found so funny about that. It's actually a very serious matter. He paused for a moment, opening his mouth like he wanted to tell me something but ultimately decided better of it. "I think you're right, Casey," He told me indulgently. I felt somewhat vindicated and allowed myself to smile thinly. Now, come on, Paul, tell me how I can fix it. There was a twinkle in his eyes I didn't quite comprehend. "How long have you been feeling this way?" He leaned forward a little, looking me in the eyes, as if he knew something I didn't.

I frowned at him, leaning back in my chair and sighing heavily. It really was a very big deal to me. "Since this morning," I told him, running a hand through my hair. I looked over at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me something.

My therapist, however, was a little too silent for my liking. He shifted in his chair a little, and I knew he was going to play some of his stupid counselor mindtricks with me. Great, more mind games! As if seeing Truman wasn't enough! Paul just nodded, almost to himself, staring out into space somewhat distractedly. "I assume you see him a lot, right?" Upon my nod, Paul continued, eyes sliding over to lock with mine at the very last minute. "So what made today any different than all those other times?"

Now that was something to consider. I paused for a moment to run it over in my mind. Vicky was definitely a catalyst, but she was nothing new... He'd been ignoring me for weeks. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Oh, I don't know for sure! I shrugged helplessly, biting my lip. "Well, he has been ignoring me for weeks now, and today I tried to talk to him about something important... And he just blew me off." I felt the rage I'd felt flooding back in under my skin. My cheeks got hot just thinking about it. "And, he basically paraded his slutty little girlfriend around me today, and that was just so completely phony and disgusting..."

A light flickered on in his eyes. He steepled his fingers, placing them under his chin. "So would you say you're feeling neglected, like you've maybe been replaced with this new girlfriend of his?" He asked casually. I knew it was a trap, but, as a matter of fact, I did! I nodded vigorously despite my better judgment.

Naturally, I was off talking before I could even think of shutting my mouth. My mouth really does run away from me sometimes. "There's no _maybe_ about it! He _has_ replaced me! She looks just like me, you know, only she's easier and meaner than I am!" I countered loudly, leaping up out of my seat. Paul raised his eyebrows at the vehemence of my emotion, at the force behind my words. I was gasping for breath. At that moment, I realized I was probably seeming a little instable and somewhat insane, so I sat down. Calm yourself, Casey. Paul opened his mouth to probably ask me some asinine question about how could I be sure of that or something to that effect. I had a rejoinder ready before he got even a single word out.

"Trust me, I know. She's my cousin, for god's sake! My _**cousin**_!" I shouted half in disbelief because that really was a low thing to do, but it was such a Derek thing to do. Paul's jaw actually dropped at that, and I suppose it should've because you can never really expect something like that, regardless of the circumstances.

For a good while, my old friend was utterly speechless. I have rarely if ever seen Paul completely rendered speechless. It took him a solid five minutes to find words again. He cleared his throat heavily. "Well, that does seem to be a reasonable conclusion... But could it be that you're really upset because it seems like he's moving on and he's completely forgotten about you?" Paul hinted, and damn if he wasn't right. That was what I was mostly mad about (the fact that it was with my cousin and that he was flaunting her in front of my face didn't make me too damn happy either), and I hated myself a little because I had no right to be. What was he to me anymore?

My brother?

Had he ever been a brother to me? Ever?

So I just nodded, somewhat dumbfounded. "Yeah, I... I think that's it. It's just, I didn't think he would. I didn't think it would happen so soon. I mean, it's weird, this whole situation, and I don't like him ignoring me. I don't like him treating me like anyone else. I don't like him thinking he can just blow me off... and I know things can't be the same, and maybe they won't go back to normal... maybe they'll never be normal again... But I was expecting something more than this," I murmured half to myself. There was more anger in my voice than I realized, and Paul picked up on it. I sighed. "I'm not used to this. I guess I'm not used to not having him in my life at all, and it feels like that's what's happening," I told Paul surprisingly frankly.

He grinned broadly, and I realized I'd just had a bit of an epiphany. But when had I ever wanted Derek in my life? When had I ever thought I'd suffer from a lack of him? When had I ever needed the bizarre dynamic that was our relationship to feel normal? Why did I miss it? Oh, god, I miss it. What the hell is wrong with me? I... I even miss his stupid pranks and his insults and his lecherous looks because... because at least then he was paying attention. At least he cared then. Now he's just... thrown it all away. And I don't want him to? I thought I'd be happy... I've been wanting him to leave me alone since Day One, but...

Now I don't even know what I want at all. I sucked in a deep breath.

Paul asked me another question then, one that came completely out of left field. He sensed my mental state, sensed I was almost there, almost to the point of having my questions answered, on the brink of self-knowledge. His eyes narrowed a little, and he leaned on his desk, body half turned away from me. "Earlier, you said you were still in love with Sam then, past tense... Are you still in love with Sam?" He inquired so stealthily I never even saw it coming.

That question took my breath away for a moment, but the answer came to me quick, unbidden. "I..." But, really, I was just stalling. Deep down, I already knew the answer. I'd known it for a while now. I sighed and gazed down, picking at my nails. "A part of me will always love Sam, and I'm never going to forget about him... He's my first love, my first boyfriend, and he's really a good person, despite everything... But it hasn't been the same as it was before..." I told him anxiously, sensing the way the conversation was heading. Paul watched my intently, fascinated and silent.

My eyes burned a little, and I felt the tears boiling there. I didn't want to do this, any of this, admit it, but I'd been in denial about it long enough. I sighed heavily, biting down hard on my bottom lip, and then I admitted the hard, cold truth. "I don't think it's working out," I said, and it hung in the air for some time afterward. I glanced back up at Paul for a moment before the words started flowing out of me on their own accord. "It hasn't been working out for a long time, I think, and there's really no point in it anymore... We've both changed _so_ much, too much to salvage it. We're such different people than we were when we got together the first time, as much as I hate to admit it. We don't know each other anymore, if we ever did... And I can't trust him or get past what happened, and I haven't been able to look at him the same since..." I admitted mostly to myself, feeling the tears trickle down my face slowly.

They were a release. By that point, I'd almost entirely forgotten Paul was still in the room, and I said it, that fatal sentence. "I just don't feel the same way I used to. I can't feel that way about him anymore," I mumbled numbly. I'd wanted it to work out so badly, but it just seemed doomed for failure. Because neither of us are the same as we once were, and he's not the Sam I thought he was. I snapped back to look up at Paul, who was smiling faintly, sadly.

"It sounds like you want to break up with him. Are you going to?" He asked me tranquilly. If he'd asked me just this morning, I would've laughed at him for saying something so absurd... but now it had merit. I'd just been playing a role and pretending with Sam lately. That was why it was so hard, that was why I didn't care if I saw him all the time. I answered more easily than I thought I could.

My voice was distant and far away. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll, uh, do it after school..." I replied softly, nodding almost imperceptibly, still surprised at the turns this day had taken. I thought I'd feel something when I said it, when the idea of breaking up with Sam for good this time had implanted itself in my brain once and for all, something like remorse or regret. But I didn't feel anything like that. All I felt was a lightness and this incredible relief that went straight to my head and almost made me dizzy-drunk with its intensity. It was a sweet relief, and I didn't feel one ounce of regret or guilt for my decision.

Deep down, I knew I should've done this a long time ago.

Since I was off in a dreamland of my own creation, imagining how the break-up would go, the last thing I expected from Paul was another question. I thought I'd already come to discover all I had to know, but that was only the beginning. "If he hadn't broken up with you first, the other guy... would you have stayed with him, or would you have gone back to Sam?" Paul pondered, raising his voice. My eyes widened a little; it was wholly unexpected and hypothetical. It didn't matter, whatever the answer, I told myself, but that wasn't completely true, was it?

I just shrugged at first, trying to play it off. "Who's to say?" But that answer didn't suffice, and the real answer came to the surface, bouncing off my lips almost immediately afterward. "Probably." Paul looked very intrigued, and upon seeing his look, what I'd said registered. I winced, instantaneously knowing the truth behind the word. Hadn't I always known that, though? It wasn't really a revelation. Even Derek knew that. "Yes, I probably would have stayed with him," I forced myself to repeat because I needed to hear it.

The thought was equally sobering and frightful. Paul nodded encouragingly, and as usual I felt that pull, like he was directing me, pushing me into territory I didn't necessarily want to enter into, into things I didn't want to understand or think about... but it was all for my own good, of course. He hardly gets enough credit for what he does. "So I guess that just leaves one question, then," He stated, giving me a knowing look. I knew exactly which question he meant, damn it. I swallowed hard and nodded, trying to convince myself I was ready for it, ready to hear what he had to say and answer him.

Paul is the most patient man I have ever known, and he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize just for putting up with me all the time. I know it's not easy. His voice was measured, trying to assuage my reluctance to answer. "I want you to think long and hard about this, Casey. You're obviously fixating on this guy, meaning that you two have unresolved issues. I think what he does, what he thinks, and what he feels matters to you a lot more than you're willing to acknowledge. And, clearly, he's disrupting your life a great deal at the present moment. Are you sure you're over him?"

He was as serious as a heart-attack, so I tried to stop the instinctive reaction that burst out of me. Of course, it didn't work. But, really, I've always fixated on Derek. It's a natural reaction when someone's goal in life is to make your life hell, and some people may think that's weird, but for me, it's perfectly normal. "I was never under him! I mean... I never had feelings for him. I'm the one who wanted to move past it," I retorted immediately, defensively, stubbornly, hotheadedly, realizing all too soon that I sounded like an idiot. And, wow, I went to that sexual place right away. Derek would totally be smirking and making fun of me right now. Even Paul was smirking a little, and I glowered at him.

As usual, Paul remained calm under pressure, and he knew when to call me on something I'd said. He gave me a skeptical look, gesturing towards me. "I've _never_ seen you like this, Casey, in all my years of knowing you," He told me, being sure to emphasize it. Paul has seen me in many stages of distress, frustration, depression, rage, happiness, stress, annoyance, embarrassment, and pretty much every other emotion you can imagine... so him saying that is actually a pretty big deal. "I've never seen you so... un-done," He elaborated, and of course he was right, because that's exactly what I was.

I'd been running around like a chicken with her head cut off all day since I'd spoken to Derek. My heart was skipping beats like Marti decided to play hopscotch on it. My breath was irregular, and it kept speeding up or I kept forgetting to do the all-important thing and just... breathe. Or the breath would get caught up in my throat and stuck there, and then I'd kind of almost asphyxiate myself on it. The whole day I'd felt like I was going to throw up, and my stupid stomach kept doing flips and cartwheels like I had one of those bitchy cheerleaders trapped inside, trying to get out. I kept running into things (especially people) and knocking things over and tripping on air and dropping things and generally making a fool of myself. And I was thinking of him nonstop, like I couldn't get enough, wasting my time thinking about someone who obviously wasn't thinking about me.

Not to mention the dreams I'd been having! All these horrible sexual dreams about Derek, of course, and most of them actually happened in reality, which makes it worse! They're so awful I can't even write them in my Dream Journal, lest someone like Edwin or Lizzie stumble upon it and be scarred for the rest of their young lives.

And, oh, I hadn't felt this completely awful, run-down, and sick since I had my appendix out. I waited for Paul to go on and say something else. "Clearly you haven't moved past it yet. Casey, don't you think the way you're reacting to this means something? Maybe your body's trying to tell you something?" Paul suggested, hinting at a possibility I didn't even want to entertain. I shook my head stubbornly, but I felt the truth in my bones. I've never been one to give in easily, though. Paul looked a little frustrated for once. And just when I thought he couldn't blindsight me with one more unexpected question, he did. "Is this about Truman? Is he the guy?"

My jaw dropped, and my tongue just about fell out of my mouth. I stared at him for a solid minute, eyes wide and gaping, in sheer disbelief. Truman? He thought I was this worked up over Truman French?! Admittedly, I have gotten pretty damn worked up over Truman French, but heart palpitations were never part of the equation. My hands shaking, yes, me sobbing like a melting snowman, yes, but he never made me this big of a mess. He could never get under my skin like this. So imagine Paul's surprise when I start laughing hysterically and slapping my knee. "Tr-u-u-u-u-mah-ha-an? That's gotta be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. No, this has nothing whatsoever to do with him," I gasped out between giggles.

There were tears of mirth in my eyes. Paul was less amused but rather surprised. His brow furrowed up in confusion. "Really? But Truman always..." I continued to shake my head. I get it. It's similar to how I acted back then in a lot of ways. Believe me, you don't feel like this because of Truman. God knows the boy drove me crazy, but he didn't drive me off of the damn bridge, you know? Finally, the laughter died, and I wiped away some of the tears, still amused he thought Truman had me in such a pathetic state. I assured Paul I had no lingering feelings for Truman except a profound disgust and dislike.

He nodded slowly, quirking a smile. "Okay, so we've talked a lot about your current situation, but I haven't heard anything about what it was like with this guy before. You haven't talked very much about the actual relationship, but you've made it pretty clear that you don't want to be with this guy, right?" Once again Paul was toeing around the question he really wanted to ask me, not that I really minded. I did know, however, that he would come out with it again and surprise me when I least expected it. I nodded though. Of course not, that would be ridiculous! The last thing I need to do is jump into another relationship.

I shrugged, adjusting my sleeves. "What do you want me to tell you? It was... _intense_," I said a bit defensively, although I drew out that last word like a last breath, and I hated how it left me breathless. Because intense didn't even come close to describing it, all of it, the glorious life-altering mess that it was, destined from the start to crash and burn in a prettily dramatic fashion. "It was kind of like trying to turn a game into a relationship." The way he'd gotten me to talk made me uncomfortable, and I smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in my skirt for the millionth time. "I needed someone, and he was there. I... It was a m-mistake, though. I wasn't thinking straight, and I had no right to be in a relationship when I was still hung up on Sam. I can't take it back, but I _would_ if I could, and I'm sorry about how it all turned out," I spat the words more furiously than I intended to, bitterness coating them heavily like cough syrup.

Paul gave me a curious look. "Did it hurt, Casey?" He asked slowly. I shook my head, shrugged, looked away. Did it matter? It didn't hurt much, if it did at all. The break-up was hell, though, by which I mean that awful aftermath that led to war and bloodshed. How couldn't I feel guilty about that? About Marti getting hurt because of me? About Sam and Derek fighting because of me? Paul's stare was penetrating, and something in his eyes changed. "Did you hurt... him?"

All I could do was nod and say yes. I don't think that even begins to cover it. He lashed out at everything and went into a self-destructive cycle because of me. I know it hurt him, and I've always known that. He told me as much, didn't he? And I was just a bitch to him. He said he loved me. "I did wrong by him," I replied in a steely tone. I sank into the chair. "It's not what I wanted... I-I didn't m-mean to," I stammered, rubbing my temples, wishing anything I said would make sense. Paul didn't ask that to make me feel guilty or anything. He was just curious about what the situation was like. There was something else I wanted to say, to explain it better, but after grasping for the words for some five minutes, I gave up, slumping into my seat.

So what do I do about all of this, I wanted to ask him. I pinched the bridge of my nose, suddenly beset by a gigantic headache. Then Paul did exactly what I'm dreading. "There's only one question you need to ask yourself, Casey. Either way, you obviously have unresolved issues with this person. How do you feel about this boy? Do you have feelings for him, and if so, what kind of feelings are they? I can't tell you what you feel, but it seems to me that there's definitely something here you're overlooking," Paul advised me. He was probably right, but can't he see I'm doing it for self-preservational reasons?

Nevertheless, Paul was giving me that look, so I had to do what he said, no matter how much I didn't want to. All I can say is that I am not going to like this. I tried to think hard as Paul sipped his coffee. Well, obviously I care about him a lot more than I want to. He's family, too, of course; can't forget that. I don't like that I care what he does or who he does or what he thinks of me. It bothers me that that's such an issue because this is Derek Venturi, who is the Antichrist, of course. I hate his smirk, his attitude, his orders, his ego, how freaking smug he is. I hate that he's a womanizer and that he's dating my cousin... I don't want him to be happy with her. I hate that this is making me sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend.

And I hate that I feel like he's ruined it all for me. I hate that I can't be Sam's girlfriend any longer. I hate that Derek doesn't even know what he's doing to me. I hate that I think about him so much. I hate that I even have to have this conversation. I hate that he drives me absolutely crazy. I hate that I dream about him even though I tell my subconscious it's ridiculous and disgusting and I should know better. And I hate that I care about him and his stupid well-being and feel responsible for it.

And I hate that I broke his heart.

I hate that a lot.

All of a sudden, some idiot is knocking on the door, interrupting my important and pivotal train of thought, and I'm murderous all of a sudden (ew, do I like thinking about him or something?). So I get up and stomp over to the door, surprising Paul once again, and throw it open. I'm about to ask what the hell the person wants, and what problem they've gotten that could possibly be more important than mine, but I look up, and there's Derek. And pretty much every word dies on my lips. I blink at him in disbelief, and he's smiling, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that, believe me, I can appreciate, like nothing's happened. "What can you possibly want here?" I say to him, finally finding my voice, though it lacks the venom I'm accustomed to using. And just like that, I fall apart, and he's not even looking at me.

I swear that boy looks past me like I'm not even there. He's practically glowing like a sunbeam, not even smug, and his stupid red-brown hair looks perfect, falling into his eyes a little in that way I like. He's wearing the damn sexy jacket too and holding some papers? "Believe me, Marcia, the last thing I want to do is interrupt your little psycho session with our very esteemed guidance counselor slash computer teacher, but I do kind of need to turn in my recommendations and the like," He said, barely sparing a look at me. I roll my eyes at him, gesturing to the door.

"Ever think about putting them in the thing on the door used for this express purpose, D-Vent?" I manage a little shakily, not quite as sarcastic as I intend to be. Derek just rolls his eyes at me and tosses his hair like a damn model. He's like the sun, I swear. Burns to look at him.

"Even _you_ can't ruin my day, Sister Dearest," He quipped brightly, thrusting the papers into my hand. My whole body goes cold at the word and how sincere he sounds when he says it, like he's Beaver Cleaver or a damn member of the Brady Bunch. I have to suppress a full-body shudder at the word. It feels like a dirty, sinful word. Sister. I can feel the indigestion coming back up again, the acrid bittersweet taste of bile at the back of my throat. The gold glimmer in his caramel eyes is the worst of all, though. What's got him in such a good mood? Did Vicky put that smile on his face? Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick.

Derek smirks, and my insides do this weird sort of wobbling dance like eggs or something. "Normally I might threaten to pay ol' Paul a visit digging for some of your deepest dark secrets... but I don't want to give the poor guy a heart attack, especially since he has to listen to you bitch all the time, and I already know more than enough about you to humiliate you for life... and maybe I'm feeling a little generous," He continued, leaning forward a bit to stress his point, smug as hell. I drop the papers, and Derek shakes his head at me. "Didn't think you were a ButterFingers too." He picks up the papers anyways and hands them to me yet again.

Our fingers brush, and I almost fall over. I feel like I just stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. Worse still, I can't think of a single rejoinder to his semi-insult. He's not even trying. But I just can't think when he's this close to me! "Oh, so _now_ you're talking to me?" I snipe instead. I come off sounding half-hearted and petty and offended, like I care. But at least I don't sound jealous. Derek just rolls his eyes at me again.

"How I haven't missed the sound of your voice, Basketcase. What'd you expect, a monogrammed apology? I'm sorry, but I'm a busy guy, and I already see you more than enough as it is. Now, just give those papers to Paul for me, and I'll be gone," Derek practically chirps, although his voice has a bit of a sarcastic edge. He's not sorry. The edge revives me a little, even if his words deflate me. He doesn't even care enough to pull out the big guns. I almost don't want to give the papers to Paul just to see what he'd do, just to make him stay, and, WOW, is there something _seriously_ wrong with that.

So I turn around and walk over to Paul, placing the papers on his desk. I trip on my way there _three_ times and almost die crashing into Paul's desk. Derek doesn't say a word. I give Derek plenty of chances to annoy me, but he doesn't take even one, and I'm strangely disappointed that he doesn't even care enough to mess with me. That he's playing it so freaking cool. When I finally go back to the door to close it, he's not there, and I feel cheated out of something as I shut it and lock it again. I hiss a little and slip halfway down the door before I remember Paul, who hasn't even batted an eyelash.

I sighed and pulled myself off of the wall, walking over to the chair. Paul doesn't ask too many questions he knows I don't want to answer, but he has this look on his face like he's waiting for an answer to the question he asked me earlier. I know I owe him an answer, but I can barely breathe, and my stupid face feels all hot, and since when do I become tongue-tied around Derek?

And, oh my God, that's when it hits me like a brick in the face. My jaw drops, and I can't fight it, not now. Because everything that's happened today has finally amalgamated into a picture in my head, and it's Derek's stupid godforsaken face, and I know what that means. All the damn puzzle pieces have clicked into place, oh snap, and there it is in living color. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to vomit. I want to throw myself off a tall building.

I'm sure I've got some bizarre look on my face because Paul looks really concerned. He's still drinking his tea or coffee or whatever, and he knows I'm troubled, but he has **no** idea, really. And then I just say it out loud, the sudden realization that was supposed to come out all calm, only I'm not freaking calm about this because my world has just flipped upside down, and the bottom has dropped out from under me! I figure saying it out loud can't be too bad, but I'm wrong because the instant I do, I regret it, and not even because Paul now knows my deepest, darkest secret. I regret it because saying it out loud makes it true, and I can't ignore it or deny it or try to forget about it anymore.

"_**OH MY GOD! I'm in love with Der-ek!**_" The horror in my voice is unfathomable and terribly genuine, and I'm hoarse and half-screaming and suddenly standing up and pacing, wringing my hands. Paul spits out his coffee everywhere and just about chokes in sheer incredulity. He looks like he's about to have a stroke, and I feel like I'm having an aneurysm. But, really, if I'm in love with Derek, then what the hell is the world coming to? It makes too much sense for me to deny it now. I start hyperventilating like a maniac until I swear I'm going to turn blue in the face and I find it very fitting because I always knew that Derek freaking Venturi was going to kill me one day, one way or another... or at the very least cause my death.

It would've almost been funny if it wasn't such a traumatic moment. Paul recovers far sooner than I expected, trying his best to mop up the coffee and console me at the same time. I'm truly impressed by the effort but too busy freaking out to listen to him properly because it feels like I'm dying. "Whoa, whoa, whoa... Slow it down, Casey, just... cool it. I can't have you dying in my office. Now, take a deep breath. Breathe in... breathe out..." He instructed me, mimicking what he wanted me to do. I closed my eyes slowly and let his soothing voice wash over me and stopped hyperventilating. Just barely because the whole OMG-I'M-IN-LOVE-WITH-DEREK-VENTURI-sensation was still running around in my veins.

And I was pretty damn certain it wasn't ever going to come out. When I opened my eyes, Paul was still dabbing at spilled coffee awkwardly. He had a hesitant, half-frightened look on his face. "Excuse me, Casey... You're... what? Did I hear you correctly?" He asked. It looked kinda almost like he didn't want to know. I don't want to know either, Paul. See, this is why I put off going to you. I just knew something horrible like this was going to happen. Nevertheless, I nodded, unable to utter a single word. Paul blinked. "You just said you're in love with Derek, right? Now, do I know this Derek or what?"

You can imagine how I started laughing hysterically at that. Hyperventilating all over again and kind of crying, too. It was real attractive. I didn't like hearing Paul say it aloud. I fixed Paul with a rather severe look. Don't make me say it again. Just the one time was hard enough. I cleared my throat and tried (and failed) desperately to regain my composure. "Well, he goes here, and I'd say you know of him," I attempted to say somewhat calmly, in a level voice.

Paul was still gaping, of course, but he actually sounded shocked when he spoke. Like we were in some melodramatic old movie. "You don't mean... As in Derek Venturi?" He practically gaped. Well, Paul, what other Derek do you know of? There's only one Derek with me. And this whole time I've been kind of forgetting the stepbrother thing, which is of course why his eyes are wide. Oh, right. He's not going to tell anyone, is he? Because that could get real bad and real ugly real fast. And there's the added complication of Derek not knowing this, and me not wanting him to know this. Hell, I don't even want to know this!

I cleared my throat awkwardly yet again, nodding my head just barely. "Yeah, that's the one. That's what I said," I clarified even more awkwardly. My eyes were firmly fixed on the ground, so I didn't see Paul's face. I sucked in a shallow breath. "So, Paul, are you going to tell me what to do or not?" I asked a moment later, feeling terribly drained and petrified.

He sighed like I wanted to, as tired as I was. He seemed to think deeply for a moment before answering. When he spoke, his voice was a bit edgy. "Okay, first off, never do that again because I think I just had a heart attack," He ordered rather urgently. I snorted loudly. You? I almost turned blue! Paul sighed again, rubbing his temples like he had a headache. "Secondly, dear God." My thoughts involve more swearing than invocations of God, but sure, whatever. He paused for a moment there and looked back up at me, being sure to look me in the eyes. He smiled faintly. "Thirdly, let me just say I always secretly thought there was something more going on there. You always did seem to fixate on him and hate him just a little too much," Paul told me frankly, stunning the hell out of me.

Of course my jaw dropped. He's been doing that a lot today, surprising me. But even Paul never thought that the dynamic was that of a sibling relationship. Paul shrugged at my reaction. "Plus, Derek was obviously repressing his feelings for you by employing reaction formation. He's like a first grader, you know, who pulls the pigtails of the girl he likes to get her attention. He was overcompensating by bothering you so you wouldn't suspect he actually liked you," Paul explained quite rationally.

I shook my head at him. He had it mostly wrong. "Wow, Paul, you really do know a thing or two about psychoanalysis." He frowned at the remark, and I sought to explain. "Derek pisses me off because he likes bothering me, not because he feels the need to pretend he doesn't like me when he really does. It's more like the hate and the... not-hate... aren't mutually exclusive. Trust me, he had no problem telling me how he felt," I muttered half to myself. No problem at all for a guy who likes to pretend he doesn't have feelings.

My dear counselor looked somewhat disappointed by this, so he just nodded and stayed silent for a moment. "So when you avoided talking about him... it wasn't because you were getting along? And when you said you were tired of playing games... you really meant with Derek, right?" Paul asked me, tying it back to my earlier comments. His memory impressed me, and... well, what could I really do other than nod? He still wasn't telling me what I was supposed to do, not that Paul ever does that outright. He leaves it for me to figure out.

"Okay... so now that we've got that over with, the last thing I want to do is go into the details of my former... re-relationship with Derek. Being in love with him is kind of a lot to deal with, let alone rehashing everything. So why don't you just tell me what I should do about it? I'm guessing not being in love with him is going to be pretty hard, and telling him's not an option, so is there an imminent solution you can offer me? Or even anything I can do?" I demanded somewhat frantically. I stuttered the word relationship because, despite the fact that I _was_ Derek's girlfriend, I can still not fully grasp that concept. It feels like a lifetime ago. And I'm still not exactly sure what that whole thing was because you don't have relationships like that. Well, I don't, at least. It was so much more and so much less than a relationship is supposed to be.

Living with this is not really an option, you see. Because if I do, then I'll obsess, and I'll be a wreck like this all the time. You think I don't know that a man like Derek Venturi drives girls crazy for fun? I can't live my life like that.

Obviously judging by his look, Paul thinks this is a pretty strange reaction too, and I know it is. But, really, what would you do if you just realized you were in love with your asshole stepbrother? And you're in a relationship with his best friend, and he's sleeping with your cousin. You don't run up to him and tell him and hope he feels the same because who's to say he does? Clearly this is not an optimal situation, and I'm not going to be overflowing with happiness and a love-like glow because it only makes my life more awkward. This does not make me happy. I don't want to be in this position. This is not something you rejoice about. Like, I don't know, people like Derek can accept this sort of thing because they're already deviants, but that's just not possible for me because I know it's _wrong_ and yet I feel this way.

And, for crying out loud, it's Derek! Just because I'm in love with him doesn't mean I'm going to overlook his faults. They're still there, and they still piss me off, but I've got all of these unexpected feelings for him... and no idea what to do with them, but I know I shouldn't be feeling them. Yet I can't expunge them or erase them because it doesn't work like that. That's something Derek taught me, all right. I can accept that I have these feelings, but I can't embrace them. I can't give in.

I mean, this whole situation is so messed up, you know? I love Derek, but I don't want to be with him. Not even a little. I don't want to tell him, and I kind of want to bury this whole situation like some horrid mistake, but I know better than that. Because I tried that, and it worked about as well as Edwin spraying Axe on himself instead of showering. Derek, like B.O., doesn't go away when you try and mask or cover him up with something else. He can't even be scrubbed off of your skin, no matter how hard you try.

Being in love with Derek is going to be a bitch. Because he's great when he wants to be, but also a total asshole when he wants to be. He tends to be some variation of asshole most of the time, but I still have all these good memories of him floating around in my head, so I can't hate him completely. I finally get what Derek meant about loving me and hating me at the same time, but it's still such a strange concept. All of it. Derek... _loving_... me. Me... loving... _Derek_. It's all a little much. And no matter how many times I say it, I realize that it _still_ doesn't sound like I'm in love with Derek, but in my bones I know I am, trust me, because there's this horrible feeling of inevitability.

I'm not going to pretend like I don't remember the good things about Derek. It's just that I don't get to see them as much. Anyways, so I was kind of off in this la-la-land wondering what the hell I was going to do about the whole Derek Venturi loving situation while Paul was actually explaining things, so I missed most of what he was telling me.

Not that he was probably telling me anything helpful or anything I could use, because, really, what can you do in a situation like this? Pretty much all I can do is, like, wait it out... or avoid him or something. Clearly the whole-avoiding thing doesn't really work out for us. And just stopping, if I could really will myself to do that (and, let's face it, if I could, it would be an ideal situation), is even more out of the question. I mean, gee, want a testimonial? Just ask Derek. Proof it doesn't work. I decided it might be wise to tune in to Paul, though.

"...Casey, you can't just... It doesn't work that way. Now, from what you've told me, I'm assuming you don't want to be with Derek, right?" I nodded vigorously, and Paul still looked surprised. We bring out the worst in each other, even if he was interested. Or maybe he just brings out the worst in me. I don't know... I mean, would Derek have done what he did to me to just any other ex, any other girl? No, probably not, and I guess that makes me special. Because just like he was my first, I'm his. Two entirely different firsts, mind you, but there's the same sentiment there. You change afterwards. Either way, I'm not sure it could ever work. Too much has happened between us, maybe.

I don't know. I don't really know anything anymore. I thought I did.

Paul nodded and shrugged, throwing up his hands. "Well, I'm afraid there's not much more I can tell you. All you can do is live with these feelings and try your best to ignore them, I guess, but I don't really think that's very healthy," Paul recommended, looking a bit concerned. Well, telling Derek isn't really an option. And it'd serve no purpose other than to humiliate myself. So the minute I tell him is the minute I lose my effing mind. Blah, blah, blah, I'd better bottle these up. So I smiled at Paul and slowly got up.

"Well, thanks a lot, Paul. It really helped to talk about what I was feeling," I told him. But my smile was fake, and I was completely lying through my teeth, and Paul probably knew that. Because when I came in here, I was not in love with Derek. I mean, sure, I might've been in denial, maybe, but I was really fine with that. And so I come out in love with Derek and having decided to dump my boyfriend. Paul always puts things into perspective. I'd almost think he's manipulating me, but I really don't think he's that good. Paul told me I could talk to him about this any time... but you know, he was pretty cool about the whole thing. Gotta say I appreciate that. I smiled genuinely and waved goodbye. "Bye, Paul! Have a nice day!"

Then I was walking down the hallway when I remembered Sam. I'd agreed to meet him after school, and school wasn't technically out, but if there ever was a day I needed to skip class, today was it. I think Paul would agree with me. It'd been a pretty dramatic, traumatizing day for me, and I had a lot of stuff on my plate. So I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. It was like I was looking at someone completely different, looking at myself through entirely new eyes. I sighed and started to fix my make-up.

You know, I really think the thing I hate the most about all of this is the fact that Derek was unequivocally right. He was right when he said there was something there, something more, something not quite normal. He was right when he said I would never really see him as a brother. He was right when he said I was attracted to him. He was right when he said I couldn't resist. He was right when he said he always gets what he wants (but, then again, am I with Derek now? So maybe he's not always right). He was right when he said it meant something. He was even right when he insisted I was in love with him, not that I was at that time, but just look at me now! I always hate it when he's right, and maybe that's one of the reasons I denied it for so long. But, really, can you expect me to just fall easily into loving the bane of my existence?

Or maybe I just finally had the time and the space to think about everything. Without Derek there, consuming my life, a sort of clarity settled in my mind. There was finally room to think, to wonder, to analyze. There were no distractions to stop me from figuring it out, nothing to stand in my way anymore. It's ironic that all it took was Derek not bothering me, not trying to take over my life, to achieve this. So I guess I've got my answer, then. I've got all the answers now.

What did it mean? Why did I choose Derek? Why did I have sex with Derek?

It meant... everything. That I'm in love with him, that it was special. He was good to me while it lasted. Stop me before I gag on the utter sentimentality and nostalgia of it all. I'm in love against my will, and it's exactly as horrible as you'd think it is.

It doesn't feel yet as if I've been torn in two, but just wait because I'm terribly conflicted, and I have a feeling that this is bound to get painful sooner or later. I just know it. Clearly it can't be pleasant to be in love with Derek, and hell, I know from experience that Derek being in love with me wasn't pleasant. It's just something that will have to pass... and it's not like I have this burning desire to tell him because I don't. I'd rather lick sand.

I sighed and left the bathroom, waiting anxiously for Sam. I peered down the hallway, trying hard not to think of Derek. It wasn't really working. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I spotted Sam. His face promptly broke out into a smile, and he raced over to me like a dog happy to see its master. Damn, this was going to be harder than I thought. I swallowed hard and laced my fingers with his for what could be the last time. "Look, Sam, we need to talk..." I glanced around the hall, adding a moment later, "In private."

Sam nodded and looked a bit gleeful, probably thinking that we'd be doing a lot less talking and a lot more making-out. He was very much mistaken. Anyway, he led me outside to his car. The both of us climbed in and sat there in silence for a moment. Wow, this was going to be awkward. I turned to him, smiling faintly, although I felt more nauseous than happy. I took a deep breath, taking in a last look at him, his face all aglow with an almost childlike enthusiasm. I hated to crush him like this, but I had to. So I steeled myself and said those fateful words. "I think it'd be best for the both of us if we... broke up. For good this time."

My voice was quiet and even but so uncomfortable. I couldn't look at him, and Sam reached out for me. I flinched away from his touch, and saw his face fall out of the corner of my eye. Obviously I was acting so dodgy that he wasn't going to take me at my word. He leaned back against the seat, exhaling heavily. Then he said something that gave me the shock of a lifetime. "Is this because of Derek?" He asked bluntly. How long had I wondered if he knew and just never said anything? The whole time and still no answer.

By that point, I hadn't been expecting any further surprises, so I just about had a heart attack. My head snapped to the side, looking at him with wide eyes. "What?" I just about barked in incredulity, crossing my fingers behind my back that he didn't, couldn't know. But it sounded so much like he did! And him knowing would be such a relief... Seeing the weird look on his face, I backpedaled swiftly, biting my lip. "Um, no..."

Even I knew that didn't sound convincing, but what could I really say. After I said it and tried to look away, Sam grabbed my hands. I was compelled to look at him. He was frowning a little bit and sought to explain. "Because I know he's been giving the both of us a lot of trouble, and he's made it pretty clear he doesn't approve of me dating you, but I don't care what Derek thinks. I love you, Casey, and we can make this work if you're willing to try," He told me somewhat beautifully. I would've been touched by his professions if the situation was different, if so much hadn't happened. If I wasn't in love with freaking Derek Venturi.

Honestly, I have the worst timing. I forced an awkward smile and slipped my hands out of his grip. Relief crashed over me in waves. He had no freaking idea. Bless him. I patted him on the hand awkwardly. "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry... It's not Derek, _really_," I assured him, all sincerity. Even though everything in me was screaming LIAR, LIAR, LIAR-LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE! Because I'm in love with Derek, and not you, Sam. Just like damn near everything else in my life, this comes back to Derek.

But it wasn't all him, since I'd decided to break up with Sam before I'd even figured out how I felt about Derek. I sighed, frowning a little. I had to do this, but I didn't have to like it. "It's me. _I_ need to do this because it's not fair to either of us," I told him firmly. The break-up really wasn't about Derek; it was about me, and it always had been. I swallowed hard. The next part would be hard to get out, especially with his eyes so soft and trusting like that. "And I don't... I don't feel the way I used to feel about you. I wish I did, but I don't, and I'm sorry for wasting your time. It'd really be better off if we just cut our losses and end this now before one of us gets hurt," I stumbled over the words a little bit. My voice caught a few times, but it rang out clear enough to get my point across.

Sam just looked confused, and I felt genuinely bad for him. "What do you mean, Casey?" He asked, sounding so lost. A part of me felt guilty; the rest of me wanted to roll my eyes at him. After all, I'd been perfectly clear. I hadn't wanted to hurt him...

I tried to smile. "What I mean, Sam, is that we've both changed a lot... We're different people now, and my feelings have changed. I'm sorry, Sam, really... but I'm not in love with you anymore. I can't be your girlfriend anymore," I told him slowly, so he'd catch everywhere. I glanced up at him nervously. Was that enough? Had I said the right thing? Sam's face fell completely as understanding washed over his face. The poor boy looked like he'd been blindsighted. I was surprised at the sadness so blatantly displayed on his face. Really, when had he started caring about me so much?

And I couldn't take looking at him anymore because he did look truly miserable. Apparently he had really loved me... and, honestly, I'd never really been able to believe his feelings were genuine when his every action seemed to point to the opposite. "And, frankly, we both deserve better," I told him candidly, patting his shoulder. I didn't really wait for him to say anything because I didn't really want to hear it. I haven't been a very good girlfriend lately... and he wasn't a good boyfriend to me before this. So why bother deluding ourselves, thinking it could work? I smiled faintly. "Sam, find some other girl and treat her right, okay? You'll be better to her than you were to me, won't you?" I asked hesitantly, feeling my eyes water dangerously.

Seriously, am I going to start crying over this? I mean, I realize he was my first boyfriend, and it's all coming to an end for good... but now is really not the time to be sentimental. I'm doing the both of us a favor by cutting him loose. Sam looked almost like he was going to cry, and I averted my eyes because looking at him was breaking my heart just a little bit, and I really didn't want to start crying. He nodded, though, and I smiled mistily. A part of me will always love him because he was my first love... and you never forget your first love... but I'm not _in_ love with him anymore. Then again, though, you never forget your first either.

"Well, I'd better get going," I said. Derek had probably left without me, assuming he hadn't skipped out to have some more fun (sex) with his new girlfriend. Gag me. I sniffled and waved at him, turning on my heel to go. Maybe I could find Emily? Then again, there was always the bus... Or I could walk home, I guess, but it's a pretty long walk. I didn't expect Sam to say anything more than goodbye, but today's been all about the unexpected, so I really should've expected it.

"Is there someone else?" He blurted, raising his voice a little so I'd hear him. I'd already started walking away by that point, and I froze in my tracks, petrified, and turned around slowly. The guilt was probably written on my face, but I tried to lie anyway.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice for a minute. "No. There's no one else." I said it calmly, smoothly, in a clear tone of voice that didn't even waver. Guess I wasn't convincing enough, though, because he shook his head, clearly not buying it for a second. To be fair, though, his question had essentially come out of nowhere, and I was in no way prepared for such entreaties from my ex-boyfriend. Most of me was concentrated on holding it together and not doing something really stupid like telling anyone other than Paul about the whole Derek fiasco, let alone my newfound feelings for him (because a small, incredibly stupid part of me did sort of want to blurt them out and scream them to the whole world. Being in love is, after all, _supposed_ to be a good, happy thing).

Sam just tilted his head and gave me this look. It reminded me a lot of the skeptical looks Derek had given me. Derek knew me better than that; Sam didn't. True, I am a bad liar in a lot of respects, but I've got to be pretty good if I was sleeping with my stepbrother and no one noticed. Paul's the only one who found out about Derek and me, and that's because I told him. He only knows what I told him, not all the gory details. "You're a terrible liar, Casey." He smiled wryly and continued. "I knew there was someone else. You've been so different lately. The whole time, ever since we got back together, your mind's been elsewhere. I always knew. I knew by the way you never touched me, the way you seemed so scared and distracted. And I..." Here he paused, looking conflicted.

He sighed, smiling weakly. But, Sam, didn't you notice that I only touched you when Derek was around? Oh, God, was I trying to make Derek jealous? But I'd known that even then. I waited with baited breath for what he was going to say. Did he know? "I can't blame you for it, Casey. For a lot of our relationship, I was a terrible boyfriend to you, and I'm _so_ sorry for that. I didn't want to hurt you, and I had no right to treat you that way... I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but it means a lot to me that someone like you could ever forgive me for what I did. You're too good for me, and you deserve _so_ much better than what I have to offer," Sam told me in a voice that was both resigned and immensely respectful. I hadn't noticed it, but he'd slowly moved close to me, and he was holding both of my hands. I didn't mind, caught up in the sweetness of the gesture.

I'd forgotten that he could be like this, sweet and kind and understanding. For a second, it made me reconsider my decision. Here he was, saying all the things I'd wanted to hear, but it was too late. I smiled at him faintly, and Sam continued, looking shamed for his conduct. "I was an idiot, and I'm sorry for not appreciating you until it was too late. I didn't realize what I had until you were gone... Anyway, I won't be so stupid again. If I ever meet another girl like you, I'll never let her go," He swore to me. I was a little surprised at his earnestness and just barely managed to bite down a question about his sexuality and whether or not he could just as easily meet a boy he'd never want to let go. Considering the circumstances, it seemed somewhat inappropriate.

Sam smiled at me gently then, squeezing my hands affectionately. "I just hope he loves you half as much as I do," He said, blessing me. I beamed back and hugged him hard, taking him off guard. It made me so happy to know that he understood. It was one of few conversations I'd had that day that had actually made me feel good about myself, and the whole break-up had gone so much more smoothly than I'd expected. I appreciated him immensely in that moment. I pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him.

And, of course, that's when Derek freaking Venturi had to once again intrude on my life. I wasn't looking at him, but I think he was angry. Next thing I know, I'm hearing his voice, snapping at me. "Hey, Princess, I know it's hard to tear yourself away from your little Sammy-Whammy, but if you keep it up, I'm gonna puke from the sappiness of it all. I, on the other hand, have better things to do than wait for you two to stop playing kissy-face, so why don't you just cut it out or I'll just leave your ass here?" Derek practically growled. I couldn't tell if he was really just pissed at me or if he was actually jealous.

It wasn't like I was really doing anything with Sam. But is it completely awful that the possibility that he wasn't as indifferent as he pretended made my stupid little heart flutter? Yes, yes it is. I can't allow myself to feel the slightest bit of warmth for him. Or, at least, to show it. I knew I'd probably falter if I so much as looked at Derek, because I'd been doing that all day, and I completely wasn't used to feeling this way and had to get used to it. So I did pull away from Sam, shooting him an embarrassed smile, but I didn't look at Derek. After all, that seemed to work SO well for him. "Yeah, like what? What do you have to do that's so much better? Screw my slutty cousin? Because last time I checked, you did that on your lunch break. I would think you'd be sick of it by now," I retorted icily.

Trust me, I didn't have to look to know he was smirking. "She wouldn't be my girlfriend if I was sick of it." I couldn't quite decide whether that was a compliment or an insult to myself. Anyway, a moment later, Derek repeated his threat. "Now, seriously, Sis, stop staring dreamily into Sam's eyes, or I'm going to ditch you," He persisted irritably. I stiffened but didn't really move or look at him.

Why is he suddenly everywhere I am today? Especially when he's been avoiding me for weeks! "That shouldn't be a problem for you, Derek. God knows you've had enough practice stranding me places. And that's not even bringing into account all those girls you've just left high and dry, now is it?" I rejoined rather irritably. Because he really didn't give a crap about driving me anymore. He'd stopped for the most part when we'd "gone to war", and since he'd been avoiding me for the past weeks, we hadn't had any alone time in ages. Am I bitter about that? I sound bitter. Ugh.

I could sense him rolling his eyes at me. "Chillax, Drama Queen. And, seriously, stop standing in the hallway like that. You look like a freaking idiot, which, of course, you already were, but people are going to think you're Special Ed if you stay there much longer." I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. Sam looked confused and mildly amused. He was, predictably, no help. Derek can say many things about me, but I am not the stupid one. And, besides, I didn't see him storming over here to do anything about it. So why bother, even if he _is_ my ride home?

"Oh, bite me, Derek!" I muttered off-handedly, directing the remark over my shoulder. I shouldn't have said it because I knew he'd make some dirty comment. But that comment was apparently his trigger, because suddenly I could feel him behind me, standing too close, and I thought I was going to overheat and die from his mere proximity.

He swept my hair aside easily, holding it back and leaning in close to my ear. His breath was hot on my neck; I could almost feel his lips on my ear. And the whole thing was, of course, driving me completely insane. Because I just about wanted to turn around and jump him right there, despite my brain knowing it to be an impossibility. "Oh, Sister Dear, but I already have," He whispered huskily, lips forming into the smirk I knew so well. I swear, I thought I was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. I shuddered involuntarily, and then Derek tugged on my ear.

Naturally, I was pissed and, strangely, disappointed, so I whirled around right away and lunged after him. Of course, he ducked, and I crashed to the floor. Guess where I landed? Just guess... Right at the feet of Truman French. Was that better or worse than landing at Derek's feet, I wonder? He smiled, or, rather, smirked, and leaned down to offer me a hand. "Falling for me again, Case?" I scowled at him and slapped his hand away, pushing myself up. "Twice in one day... When did I get so lucky?" You're not gonna get lucky, which is kinda why we broke up, in a roundabout way, isn't it? As I recall, my slutty cousin pretty much orchestrated that break-up too. And I thought she'd ruined my life then. Ha!

"When I became unlucky," I replied stoically, trying to move past him. What a douchebag.

He smiled again. Smarmy bastard. "Well, it isn't every day that a girl like you falls at my feet."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Apparently you seem to think so." Player. I glowered at him and once again tried to pass him. Just let me pass. I mean, really, what are the odds? Stalk me much?

He shook his head and got in my way, and opened his mouth, no doubt to spout some more crap. At that very moment, fortunately for me, Sam came up and took my hand, pulling me away from Truman. I was beyond grateful. I could've kissed him, but that would've been misleading. Though it probably would've pissed Derek off. I smiled at Sam and thanked him warmly. He had a look in his eyes that reminded me of our previous conversation. As he said goodbye, I thought of the words I was going to say, finally glancing over at Derek, who looked just about ready to carry me off like a caveman. Only not to have sex with me, duh. He did, that's what I was going to say. I looked at Derek rather sadly and waved to Sam again before walking back over to Derek.

He did, once.

But does he anymore?

See, told you! This whole... wanting Derek thing... it really sucks.

Loren ;*

Love you guys! Review please!


	27. Yesterday Is Gone

Honestly, I rather dislike this chapter. Hence why it took me so horridly long to write it. Well, one of several reasons. It's not a very cheerful chapter, for starters, and it was a bit tricky. Okay, so it was a total bitch. Like I know a lot of you probably still think Casey is, but this chapter is going to show you, or, rather, remind you just how... Derek can be.

But another reason I dislike this chapter is because Derek does not, I feel, sound quite like Derek in it. He's a bit too eloquent sometimes, and I dunno, something about the apathy he gave off to me just didn't sit quite right as a tone (writing Edwin in Strange Attractors, has, I fear, rubbed off on me quite a bit). I mean, now I'm sure none of you will like this chapter very much (despite how much you all have looked forward to it), and I can already predict the protests I will be getting, m'darlings. But remember, this fic's an angst for a reason, not a comedy. And, more importantly, remember that it's not the end. There are still TWO more chapters. And hopefully I won't botch those up.

This chapter also brings my little subplot into play in kind of a big way. I like the subplot, plus you get a rare showing of George and Nora and so forth. It's kind of ironic, actually, but I digress. I also don't own Life with Derek. Except any original characters or changes to the old ones that I might have invented. And the plot, I suppose.

* * *

"We were waiting for the right moment... turns out there wasn't one."

* * *

And you thought things were crazy before in this nuthouse! What with the whole me-secretly-lusting-after-Casey thing, and then with me not-so-secretly-lusting-after-Casey, and then with the whole me-being-in-love-with-Casey dilemma... And then, of course, with the exciting events of a secret affair with my stepsister and then-girlfriend under everyone's noses, and then the all-out war that ensued as a result of the combustion of said relationship. Well, turns out there _is_ drama in this family that is not even remotely Casey-related.

I know! Who would've thought, right? I always thought she had the monopoly (the irony) on drama... but apparently the kids are giving her a run for her money right about now.

Let's just say it's a very good thing the 'rents never found out that I was screwing my stepsister. I'm pretty sure Dad would've had a coronary and Nora just might have had a stroke if they accidentally found out about that. Good thing I'm discreet. Except when you dump me (assuming I give a damn about it), and then I make you suffer. But I digress.

The point is that my brother is a moron. I blame my brother because he's a bungler who can't really keep a secret to save his life. Lizzie's a bit more capable, you know?

Anyway, I was actually making out with Vicky when all of this was going on, hands under her clothes, the whole (well, okay, we weren't having sex because it was like, seven o'clock on a school night, and Marti was awake, and anyone could walk in...) nine yards. I was very pleasantly distracted and distanced from the situation, but this is what I gather happened from what I've heard...

Basically, Edwin and Lizzie lied to Nora and Dad. They both said they were going to be at friends' houses. You know, for dinner and homework or a project of some sort. No big deal. They've been doing it a lot lately, and the both of them are fairly decent liars. So the dishonesty bit wasn't the problem, although Nora and Dad had a bit of a problem with that. Trust me, you have a secret relationship with your stepsibling, and you become a pretty damn good liar, my friend.

The irony is that they didn't even leave the house under fraudulent purposes because they didn't leave the house, period. I find that a lot more complex than actually going out together, but of all people, I understand how hard it is to date your stepsister. Because public stuff is basically a no-no, assuming you don't want to wind up a guest on Jerry Springer, so Casey and I never went out in public once. Unless that visit to her Uncle Donny in T-dot counts.

So, therefore, their little plan was sadly busted when Nora came upstairs. Apparently she was jonesing to kick my dad's ass in Monopoly. Again. Obviously that takes her to the Games Closet, which is, of course, where she walks in on Edwin and Lizzie kissing. I think Nora was pretty loud with the gasping and the shouting, but I really don't understand why that surprises her. Come on. They hang out in there all the time, and they're pubescent. Clearly stuff is going to happen. Especially if their older brother and sister shacked up. Not that Nora and Dad know this, but nonetheless, is hanging out in a closet filled with board games normal for any 'tween? No, I think not. No matter how abnormal Edwin is.

I mean, come on, was Dad born yesterday? Naturally, Nora's first move is to pull Edwin off of her daughter and drag him down the stairs by his ear, threatening my poor brother all the way. She spent a while down there shouting at Dad, telling him to watch his son (but ah-ha-ha, the wrong son! 'Cause _I'm_ the one who deflowered her precious baby). I think Lizzie might've tried to jump out of a window. Not to kill herself or anything, just to run away from the awkward talk that was bound to ensue. Can't say I blame her. But I guess she couldn't just throw my brother to the wolves like that.

Edwin really doesn't know what he has, you know. You don't get loyalty like that from a girl any day. Plus she's obviously too good for Stinky, but that's not the point. Edwin ought to appreciate it.

Still, though, I don't really get Nora's reaction. I mean, she's worried about _Edwin_? Edwin, the trustworthy, sensitive, nice, non-player brother? Who happens to be what, ten, thirteen, whatever it is? She's got a hormonal horndog under her roof, and _Edwin's_ the one she worries about? Or does she just think that Casey hates me so much she's immune to my charms? 'Cause I can tell you right now, my charms aren't defective! And I can also just flat-out deny that because clearly Casey is anything but immune. If I wasn't her stepbrother, we'd probably have had sex weeks ago. I'd use the term make-up sex, but I'm not sure we've fully forgiven each other for everything.

I never forget. And she can't, no matter how much she wants to (but does she want to? I mean, I'm pretty damn unforgettable, like that stupid love song. I wouldn't want to forget screwing me either). Moving on and moving past things is very different than forgiving them. And I haven't really forgiven her for everything. Because she basically tore my heart out of my chest, ripped it into little pieces, and then proceeded to grind those pieces into sand, throw salt water on them, and then set them on fire. That kind of pain leaves a scar... on your psyche, none of this physical/soul business!

Anyways, despite all this, no one is foolish (or brave, I suppose) enough to interrupt me. Except Casey. Casey, Casey, Casey. It's not that I mind or anything. It's just very odd not to be immediately blamed for anything going on in the house, especially something such as this, which I am actually implicated in. To be fair, Nora and Dad did sort of have their hands full. I mean, poor Dad! His feeble mind can only handle so much. He's so clueless about these things, too, so Nora probably has to spell it out for him and everything... assuming she's not too upset to get any words out.

Vicky's luscious lips were a lovely occupation for me and my lascivious tendencies. And yes, perhaps that doesn't make any sense, but using triple-barreled Keener Casey vocab words is not a particular talent I've indulged lately. Because why would I need to? Plus, since I'm not that guy, I don't really give a crap about academics and all that garbage that has no bearing on your real life. Why bother when I can coast by on my considerable charm?

Of course Casey bursts in my door like she owns the place. When I've got my hand up Vicky's skirt. I mean, yeah, she's been in here more times than I can count, most of those visits nonsexual, and everybody knows I don't bother with knocking... but given the state of our current situation and the fact that I'm fairly certain she knew I was in here fooling around with her cousin, you would think she'd knock. So, either the fact that she had her way with me in this very bed and has been there, done that (hence the informality), gives her this nonchalant attitude, or the urgency of the situation made her disregard all her compunctions about entering without knocking.

Not that I ever knock when I enter. And Casey would know.

However, I must say, Casey deserves some credit for her reaction. I would've thought the prude in her would've completely freaked out or gagged or gotten nasty. It's an awkward situation, and it would still be an awkward situation even if Casey was just my stepsister. As opposed to being my ex-girlfriend AND stepsister. Instead, Casey merely cleared her throat because Vicky and I were too wrapped up in each other to notice the door opening. "Sorry to interrupt," She managed, surprisingly not stuttering or sounding too disgusted. "As much as I'd love to leave you two alone to play Derek's favorite sport, tonsil hockey... I'm afraid his family needs him. Rather urgently. So, Vicky, do you mind if I borrow your b-boyfriend for a bit?" Casey stated a little sarcastically.

At this I finally pulled away from Vicky. I was annoyed because she'd not only ruined a perfectly hot make-out sesh, but she also expected me to come with her. Without even asking me! I don't drop my business for her. Or for my family, for that matter. Her difficulty pronouncing "boyfriend" kind of gave her away. Vicky glowered at her cousin. "Well, cuz, _my_ need for him is much more urgent," Vicky retorted, rolling her eyes and pressing her lips to my neck. Don't I know it, V.

Casey made a face when Vicky wasn't looking, crossing her arms over her chest. I barely concealed my snicker. "Look, this is a family meeting, and it's an _emergency_. Derek should be there. Your sexual urges can wait," She remarked crossly. The look Casey gave Vicky was truly a death glare to be proud of, and it was kinda almost like they were fighting over me. Which, if I wasn't so certain that was a completely delusional thought, I would obviously be totally into. Then again, I guess it is a bit awkward, having the cousin who steals everything from you suddenly start dating your ex. Maybe she feels like Vicky's moving in on her territory, one of those bizarre girl things about not dating exes or former crushes.

That was a pretty dumb thing for Casey to say, though, admittedly, because she knows full well my sexual urges can't wait. But I'm expecting her to make sense, and of course that's never going to happen. Because she wouldn't be Spacey if she did. "What's wrong?" I drawled, immensely bored with the situation already. See, I was trying to see if I could somehow get out of it. Casey and I have different ideas of emergencies. Her idea is anything remotely chaotic or crisis-like, no matter how minute, and mine is limited to death or injury. But mostly death.

I was thinking, quite wisely, that this had better be good if she's got me considering it. Casey scowled at me. "Well, apparently my sister and your dumb brother have been dating. For, like, months. And _why_ do I have a sneaking suspicion that you might've known about this, Derek?" Casey interjected irritably. Well, of course I knew about it. I know about everything that goes on under this roof. They'd still be giving each other goo-goo eyes and looking away shyly if it wasn't for me. And, ugh, Casey's such a freaking hypocrite.

Now, see, I knew that not telling her would piss her off more than confirming her suspicions, so I changed the subject. "And this is a big deal because? They're twelve. I mean, what are they gonna do, buy ice cream together? Do Dad and Nora have something against ice cream floats now?" I countered, rolling my eyes. Like, seriously, what kind of damage can they do? Casey continued glowering, so I kept talking, "Come on, Casey, they're 'tweens. They do this kind of stuff all the time, and it's probably just a phase. They'll get over it eventually."

Casey gave me a withering look, moving closer to Vicky and me. "Oh, really, Derek? Like _you_ got over it?" She rejoined pointedly. I didn't flinch, although I felt like it because, damn it, that was still a bit of a sore spot, much less to have her pressing down on it. So I glowered back, and Casey's smile turned smug and victorious. "Especially when Edwin seems to think that he's in _love_ with my sister." I felt a lot like rolling my eyes because, really, how stupid is Edwin? A. I told him he wasn't. We already had that dumb conversation. B. Does he think that would really get him out of trouble? Because, hell no, that would just make things worse! And I knew stupid Slutzilla was thinking "just like his brother" or something equally inane, which really pissed me off. I mean, ew, being compared with Edwin? The horror!

I snorted. "Well, that was stupid. But that's Edwin for you, always overestimating those feelings of his." I tried to flop back down on my bed and go back to that happy place I'd been in before... but I was really getting annoyed about this whole thing, and, as usual, Casey was ruining everything for me.

Surprisingly, up until this point, Vicky had said nothing. She chose that particular moment to speak, through nearly hysterical giggles. "Wait a second here, cuz... Little Lizzie's dating a dork like Edwin? Wow, you guys really do like to keep it all in the family, huh?" She gasped out incredulously. Well, that's not a typical reaction. Most people would focus on the step-thing, but I guess it makes sense that she wouldn't.

Now, both Casey and I took offense to that (true) comment, of course, but Casey was the one who spoke. She rolled her eyes. "Coming from a girl who's dating her stepcousin, does that really surprise you?" She snapped. Vicky looked outraged and was about to respond with something even bitchier when Casey grabbed me by the wrist. I was jolted by the sensation because it was the first time we'd touched in _weeks_. She dragged me to the door, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Vicky. "Look, you can have your boyfriend back when we're done sorting this out. And I know you're losing heat and all, but I think you'll keep," Casey damn near growled, even more nastily than her last retort. I was kind of impressed to see that kind of venom from her not directed at me, for once.

Then Casey slammed the door behind her and attempted to try and drag me down the hall and then down the stairs. I crouched a little and anchored my feet there. I was about to speak, but then Casey whirled around to scowl at me and spoke. "Don't make me pull you by your ear," She threatened in a low voice. After that, I really didn't have much of a choice. I was going downstairs either willingly or not, so I might as well be a good boy just this once so I didn't wind up earless like van Gogh. I trudged downstairs, eager to get this whole shling over with, and there was the whole family, minus Marti, who'd been exported to the neighbors, sitting around like an intervention. They looked mildly glad to see me.

Casey and I sat down on the couch, and I tried to move as far away from her as possible. The glares I received let me know this was not acceptable behavior, but who the hell cared about me at that moment? "You know why you're here, right, Derek?" Nora asked. I nodded, bored. I'm here because my brother's a moron who can't keep a secret. There are so many better things I could be doing right now. Like Vicky. Nora stared as if she expected me to elaborate. "Your brother and stepsister are dating. Don't you have something to say about that?" She continued to press.

I just rolled my eyes, wishing I was sitting in my recliner instead. "Just as long as it's not Spacey, I don't really care. Because that would not only be morally wrong but also illegal," I said smoothly, mockingly. Casey had started a bit at the first part. Like she actually thought I was glad Edwin wasn't with her because I still had a thing for her... when really I just said that because I like being difficult. Casey's mouth was a thin line, and it kinda looked like she wanted to make a comment about how I'd started nasty rumors about her and my little brother, but she didn't. I glanced over at Lizzie, who looked simultaneously worried and defiant, and consequently, I perked up a little bit. "My only real problem with this whole thing is that Lizzie is obviously too good for my brother... but I guess there's no accounting for taste," I said with a shrug.

Edwin looked a bit annoyed with me. Not that I cared. My biggest problem with this whole affair is that it stopped me from a make-out session I'm entitled to. "What a horrible thing to say!" Nora exclaimed, sounding kind of outraged. I shrugged. Is it horrible because I'm kind of condoning it or because I'm insulting Edwin? Like, seriously, did she expect me, of all people, to have a cow? After all the crap I've pulled? This. Is. Nothing. Especially because I've topped it. I mean, hello, I fell in love with _my_ stepsister, and I only got those two together to keep them out of my hair.

Then Nora turned all serious on us because Dad was still processing the whole thing. She leveled her most serious stare on Casey and me. "Did either of you two know about this...?" She floundered for words to describe Lizzie and Ed's relationship and wound up just gesturing to the two of them with a funny look on her face. I debated what to say and committed to nothing, watching Casey's reaction. She sighed and frowned a little, and then she started tattling.

Nora's face fell like she was disappointed in Casey, and Casey looked down, ashamed she'd kept something from Mommy-Whommy Dearest. This ought to be good. "I... Well... Um... Lizzie told me that she liked him. Um, between Christmas and New Years', I think. And I always kinda figured Edwin liked her because he was always looking at her... But I thought I talked her out of it!" Casey explained, her voice quickly turning panicky. Even I could not believe this, actually. I knew she wouldn't approve, but I never thought she'd try and talk her sister out of liking someone she didn't approve of. Still, it reminded me of how I'd tried to get Edwin to stop liking Lizzie. Sometimes we're eerily alike, I think.

Lizzie crossed her arms at her chest and scowled at Casey, shuddering as she remembered it. She shot her sister a betrayed look first, though. Casey knew that Edwin liked Lizzie? When even Lizzie didn't? And, for that matter, when she found it unable to believe that I could even be in love with her? No wonder Liz feels betrayed. Even I feel deceived because apparently Casey actually _is_ a mildly observant person! "Yeah, Casey, want to tell Mom about all the mean things you said to me? Like how it was _incest_ and how I was sick and stupid. And how Edwin wasn't good enough and that he was too oblivious to ever know how I felt? Oh, and how you said you'd **disown** me as a sister if I went after it, and how it was wrong to like him, and how Mom and Dad would ship me away!" Lizzie shouted, clearly carrying some pent-up rage. I think we all stared at Casey in shock because, well, who ever thought she had that in her?

Nora was torn between being angry at Lizzie and being furious with Casey for making Lizzie feel that way. She compromised by giving Casey a dark look and staying pissed at Lizzie. She alternated looks between the both of them. "Well... both of you should've told me, so that we could deal with this... situation... as a family," Nora managed to choke out, grimacing. She sighed, glancing at Lizzie. "And, Lizzie, while your sister had no right to be that awful to you, that doesn't mean that she wasn't necessarily right. I'm sure Casey only did what she did because she thought she was acting in your best interests," Nora continued diplomatically. Casey perked up a bit, and Lizzie slumped in her seat.

My stepmother sighed, leaning back against her chair heavily while Dad just sat there like a deaf-mute. "And, Lizzie... I'm sorry, but I really don't think you've thought this through. It's one thing to a have a little... cr-crush... on your stepbrother... But dating him? Lizzie, there is **no** way something like this can possibly end well. Did you even stop to think of what this could do to our _family_, how it could tear us apart, when you break up?" Nora chastised in a harsher voice. Lizzie's eyes filled with tears, and I felt bad for the poor kid. Because it felt like she was getting blamed for someone else's mistakes: mine and Casey's. We had damn near torn the family apart with our fighting even before... everything... and no one had ever known.

That being said, I wasn't stupid enough to inform everyone of that because Casey would just deny it and make me look like a liar until I started describing her naked body, birthmarks and freckles and all, in great detail. And then we would be in trouble. And, frankly, this was supposed to be about Edwin and Lizzie, not me and Casey for once in our damn lives... and, you know, sometimes I happen to like it when all of the heat isn't on me once in a while.

It bothered me that Nora didn't mince words. And the implications were just as painful. Like that Edwin wasn't in Lizzie's best interests. And that they would break up, period, and it would be messy. And that Casey'd been right about some of that awful stuff she said. Honestly, I was surprised, too, that Lizzie or Edwin didn't bring up that time they'd seen me and Casey making out. So, in order to take the heat off Lizzie, I opened my mouth to speak but was surprised when Edwin beat me to the punch. What was up with my tongue today?

"Look, Nora, it's not like that. I mean, no matter how this thing works out, I'm always going to love Lizzie. And even if she broke up with me because she was cheating on me or whatever... it'd be okay. Because neither of us is going to react like that," Edwin practically pleaded with her. He impressed me by looking her straight in the eyes. My brother was surprisingly eloquent, but I suppose a girl can do that to you. He sighed, an imploring look on his face. I should've taught him how to pout and manipulate his way into getting what he wanted. Then again, what the hell would I say in his place? How would I talk my way out of this? "We don't want to ruin this family, Nora... We just have these feelings, and ignoring them isn't going to help anything because we'd still be feeling the same way. We'd just still be in the closet about it, and I happen to think that that's a far more dangerous feeling, unrequited... whatever... than the healthy, normal relationship my _girlfriend_ and I have," Edwin insisted boldly.

Okay, first, I totally had to hide a snicker at his all-too-ironic mention of that fatal closet. Because, okay, gay thing aside, obviously they'd been found there. I raised an eyebrow, noticing how he emphasized what she was to him. Had they been allowed to sit next to each other, like myself and Casey, ironically enough, they would doubtless be holding hands right now. Edwin and Lizzie have always been stronger together than alone and apart, and I envied them for that a little. And I saw Lizzie smiling back at him, and the quick look he directed to her as his stare shifted, the brief quirk of his lips. And maybe Lizzie was the lucky one, to have a guy that cared that much about her. Maybe my brother had a backbone after all.

Poor Nora was kind of speechless from my brother's little speech, but she recovered rather admirably. She coughed, clearing her throat, wide-eyed. "You say that now, Edwin, but your little relationship isn't going to last. You're barely teenagers, and you change your minds every week. No matter what you say, it _will_ end, and it will be forever awkward between you. Frankly, I don't think either of you two should be in a relationship, **period**, until you're mature enough to understand what that is and what it means, let alone a relationship with _each other_," Nora continued bluntly, completely assured of what she was saying, giving the both of them a look.

That was just about all I could take. Admittedly, Nora did have some good points... but there were some flaws in her logic that needed correcting, and no one else was going to do it... And it needed to come from someone who wasn't Edwin or Lizzie. "Let's see, Nora, so you're basically going to force them to break up... because you're afraid that their breaking up is going to wreck our family, correct?" We all blinked to take in this contradictory statement. I rolled my eyes. "Given that that contradicts your very goal, the way I see it, there's not much of a choice. You either force them to break up, undermining your point and causing them to resent you for the rest of their lives.... and, for that matter, romanticize their short-lived relationship, and they'll probably just get together the minute they leave this house, and **then** it'll get messy... Or else you just accept them and wait for it to come to its natural, eventual end and trust that they can resolve it on their own and actively help them resolve any difficulties with the help of Casey's guidance counselor. Because, Nora, either way, it's _never_ going to be the way it was before. There's no going back," I advised her authoritatively.

My eyes briefly met Casey's, and she gulped and looked away. I gave Nora time to digest what I'd just said... Basically, you know, how it was pointless to do anything because everything had already changed. I purposely ignored Edwin and Lizzie's miffed and grateful looks. Frankly, I didn't think that their break-up would be that messy. They'd been friends first, real friends, and they'd be friends after. Edwin was always going to love Lizzie because she was family. But he's not actually in love with her, the dumbass. I crossed my arms behind my head, relaxing, smug as hell. Because, hell, even if their break-up was ugly, it'd be nothing compared to WWIII.

I'd just given the 'rents an awful lot to think about, and was it just me or was Casey maybe smiling a little? But she hates them together... Surprisingly, it was my dad who spoke next, jolting me out of my reverie. "That's all well and good, Derek, but we can't very well let our kids be together under our own roof, much less when they lie about it the way they did. We don't have that luxury, and what kind of parents would we be if we allowed that to happen? We can't just _not_ punish them for this... because, really, it's not acceptable for brother and sister to date. And it's bad enough that you're dating Cousin Vicky as it is!" Dad said calmly at first, getting progressively more worked up as he was foolishly allowed to go on.

Had I any shame, I would've flinched. But I didn't. I'd had to fight a snort, though. Because I'd dated my stepsister first. I set the freaking precedent. And a part of me wanted to tell them that just to see the stunned, disbelieving looks on their faces. I thought if I told them they'd understand, like I did, that if this damn family survived me and Casey breaking up, it could damn well survive anything else. The family, as far as I was concerned, was more indestructible than Superman. I almost snorted when he asked what kind of parents they'd be. They were a few steps up the ladder from criminally negligent, really. And they'd never noticed that I'd been sleeping with my stepsister under their own roof. So, see, you already let it happen once before this. That makes twice.

Dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I didn't exactly foresee this happening... But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit around and let it happen. You two are just kids, and maybe you're experimenting, and that's okay... but you cannot date. Please," Dad said in a tone that was simultaneously firm and pleading. Pa. The. Tic. That's all I have to say. Casey was squirming in her seat, so, hell, I decided to up the ante. Ed and Lizzie didn't really deserve it. After all, they'd only made out in the closet.

So I cleared my throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention and smirking. I made sure to meet Casey's gaze knowingly, and you can bet that I took a lot of pleasure in watching her pale dramatically. As she imagined, no doubt, exactly what I was going to say to them. If, for instance, it would involve revenge plots or bisexual boyfriends or shower break-up sex or birthday sex or wake-up sex or sex on any available surface in the house or car sex or heartbreak or how she'd lost her virginity to _me_, her stepbro, player extraordinaire, or maybe that time where she'd dragged me to the bathroom AT SCHOOL because she thought she was pregnant with _my_ kid and fortunately wasn't.

I could've said any and all of that, sure, but I didn't. I just wanted to watch her sweat like a pig. I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly and glanced between Tweedledee and Tweedledum. "They've been going out for the better part of three months, and you want to know _how_ I know that? Or why I don't care that they're together or completely not phased by it or even surprised? I know that because Edwin told me he liked her months ago, and I told Lizzie he liked her. I'm the reason why they're together... I've known from the beginning, and I didn't tell anyone," I admitted dramatically, smugly. Gasps all around, folks.

Casey, most of all, looked horrified. I delighted in causing that. Dad and Nora were confused as to where to direct their anger most effectively. So they turned on the familiar target, my lovely self. "Si-Si-Since... I should've seen your hand in this! But what the hell were you thinking, Derek, getting your brother and stepsister together?!" Dad sputtered, clearly furious. He doesn't really want to know what I was thinking, trust me.

Nevertheless, I rolled my eyes and answered him with as much honesty as I could. "Well, I was thinking that I needed to get them out of the house so I could have sex with my girlfriend, and that was a convenient way to do that. Since they both liked each other, I just made it happen. And I was feeling happy and a bit generous, so I wanted to spread my good mood because, frankly, it was pretty damn depressing watching them mope over each other," I informed Dad bluntly. Casey gasped, horrified I'd referenced her in there, and in a completely tactless and vulgar manner, and no doubt feeling guilty that she was the inadvertent cause of this fiasco. "And believe me, they're just lucky you're all so clueless, or else they would've been found out from Day One," I added a moment later, feeling pretty satisfied with myself.

No one else really was. Although I'd gotten Liz and Ed together and defended them, albeit for my own selfish reasons. But that's just who I am, and they should get used to it. It took Dad and Nora a long amount of time to confront the issue of me having sex, which rather disappointed me. I mean, didn't we all know that was going to happen? Yet they responded so much faster to Lizzie and Ed, who were a total surprise. "Derek, I cannot believe you would stoop this low... I don't understand how you could... do that!" Not even Casey's words, that time. I wasn't really paying attention to who was talking, but whichever parent it was was faltering.

I rolled my eyes and looked straight at my dad. "C'mon, Dad, _seriously_? I've flirted with girls since friggin' Kindergarten. Don't act so freaking oblivious. I **know** Casey told you about all the girls I brought back to the house... and I continued to bring them back even after you grounded me for that. So I don't get how it can be such a shock that I'm sexually active. Hell, even Edwin knew that... I'm safe, and I don't have any STDs... Haven't gotten any girls pregnant..." Here I couldn't help but glance at Casey, whose cheeks burned as she looked down, clearly embarrassed. Because she was one of those girls, and, well, damn the pregnant thing got her. I looked away quickly. "So I don't see what the problem here is. It's my life, after all, and I can do what or who I want." Dad gaped at me, mouth so wide open that I could practically see his dinner.

I tossed my hair, shrugging indifferently. "And I don't get why you're mad about me having sex with someone who was my _girlfriend_. She was my girlfriend, so of course I was going to have a physical relationship with her," I interjected irritably, going over obvious facts. Casey was growing particularly uncomfortable, and, had someone other than me been paying her even the slightest attention, they may have wondered why she was acting like that. They might've thought it was suspicious.

And, Snowflake, it was a hell of a lot more than her just being awkward and prudish about talking about my sex life. Because she was a part of it too. And I know she's not that much of a prude. Dad and Nora should've gotten the kids out of the room, but they might as well know about my sex life. They might learn a thing or two. The poor kids looked simultaneously horrified and fascinated. Least I could do, really.

What Dad actually said in response to that was unusual. "You said was. Why isn't she your girlfriend anymore, huh, Derek?" Dad asked pointedly. His tone was harsh, and, I'm not gonna lie. It kind of hurt because I heard the implication in his words. Did you dump her after you got what you wanted? She must've not meant that much to you. Because you have a new one now. And was it just a sex thing?

My eyes locked with Casey's. She looked unsure and queasy and uncomfortable to say the least. But I wasn't about to back down. For a moment, I debated what to say, then decided to puff myself up. "I broke up with her." I tried to say it all nonchalantly, forcing myself to look away from Casey at the last moment. The look in Dad's eyes said I'd confirmed whatever awful things he thought about me, but they weren't true. And, you know, even assuming they were, it's his fault because I grew up with only his influence, practically.

It pissed me off that he just thought he could judge me like that because I don't have girlfriends I don't like. I liked all of them, and, damn it, I FREAKING LOVED HER. And I don't think Dad will ever get that. I'm, honestly, not even sure Casey can ever know what that was like for me, but it was different, okay? It meant something, all right?

Unbelievably, Crazy spoke. "Actually, Derek, I'm pretty sure **she** dumped _you_," She argued automatically with authority in her voice. I raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to go on. Wanna tell them how you know that, huh, Case? We might be on civil speaking terms now, but that doesn't mean we talk much or about any of that. Things were just starting to get interesting. Realizing that everyone was staring at her, she quickly recanted. "Um, at least, uh... That's what I heard at school. Something about his jealousy issues and the overphysicality of their relationship," She stammered awkwardly, eyes darting around. I was torn between being angry and driving the knife in a little more to embarrass her. I smirked a little.

Obviously I decided to embarrass her. After all, I still enjoy that. Because the best way of resolving anger is through revenge. Well, okay, I know it's not, but this is passive-aggressive word revenge, so it hardly counts. "So she said she couldn't handle me, eh? Guess I was too much man for her." I smiled like a shark, intending to repay her insults with a few of my own. "Oh, well, I never heard her complaining about _that_ part of our relationship... She enjoyed every bit of it, from what I can recall... But, no, actually, the reason _**I**_ broke up with her was because she was still in love with her tool of an ex-boyfriend," I stated frostily, trying to keep the bitterness out of my tone and glowering openly at Casey.

She swallowed, turning paler and paler. Like Casey the Friendly Ghost. I think the rest of the family was watching us rather like a tennis match, going from one to the other. See, I don't... I haven't been giving Casey the good old treatment, being a jackass like I used to. Because, I don't know... some crap about me m-maturing... And just... Why bother paying that kind of attention to her anymore? I'm pretty damn moved on. She doesn't deserve my attention anymore, even the negative kind. So I generally just ignore her. Because I don't care, and I don't really want to care. I'm happy this way not thinking about her. Not obsessing over how to make her life miserable. But there are rare occasions where I can't resist this urge just because it's so damn fun to push her buttons and see what happens.

Like, do I look stupid enough to tell our parents that we slept together? And that I was in love with Spacey, much less dating her? After all, I have a rep to uphold, and there's really no use in rehashing the past. I mean, I'm never going to tell anyone, probably. Why would I? I can keep secrets, unlike Casey. Some things are just private, and the past is better left forgotten. Not that I'll ever forget, per se. You don't forget your first, remember? But my point is that Casey doesn't know I'm never going to tell them, and I can still enjoy this one thing I have over her.

Casey sighed and looked almost sort of broken. She didn't say anything for a pause longer than she should have. "Maybe so, Derek, but you already knew that going into it. If you weren't so selfish..." She said softly, trailing off as she ran out of things to say. She didn't know how to finish that sentence. And it made me burn a little because how was I selfish? I'd been the best damn boyfriend she could've ever asked for. I was not freaking selfish!

But I didn't say anything, merely gave her a look that could kill and turned back to the parents coolly. "I might be selfish for wanting the undivided attention of the woman I care about, but she was only with me because she couldn't be alone. And how's _that_ for selfish? I wasn't the one who broke her heart, now was I?" I rejoined coldly. After that, no one really knew what to say or understood the situation. But I glanced at Casey, who was cagey and fidgety and unable to look at me (real typical). Oddly, she'd hardly defended herself. I let my lip curl up in disgust. When I noticed everyone else, they were staring at me like they'd never seen me before.

Son of a Bitch. They didn't know, did they? They couldn't, right? I felt the panic start to flood into my veins, but when I realized I felt like Casey, it abated significantly. No, Derek, they don't know. You can calm down. If they knew, they'd be shouting or something. They'd at least say something. It's not exactly something you don't have a damn thing to talk about. Then Dad and Nora slowly looked away from me, exchanging a glance of silent conference, and their decision was forming.

Nora sighed, looking suddenly much older than her years. "Look, kids, we need to think about this some more... And we can't have you both here, so um... Edwin, can you go stay at Teddy's house for a couple days?" Nora asked, giving my brother an expectant look. We didn't have any family in the area, either of us, so she couldn't exactly ship him off to a family member. The nearest relative is Aunt Fiona in Toronto, and that was hardly an acceptable option. Nevertheless, her answer surprised me a lot because it actually sounded like they were considering allowing it.

Edwin looked pissed, and he had a right to be. Obviously he could've stayed here. All they would've had to do was put Lizzie in Casey's bed with Casey, who would doubtlessly try and keep them apart. However, Edwin's used to getting the short end of the stick, so he grudgingly agreed. He also knew that they weren't really giving him a choice. "And what am I supposed to tell Teddy, huh, Nora? That I've been kicked out of my house for dating my stepsister?" Edwin asked rhetorically. His sarcasm impressed me. I also knew that going to Teddy's house itself must be pretty unpleasant because Ed (and the rest of us) aren't exactly fond of the guy.

She gave Edwin a rather irritated look, but my brother continued talking. "You can send me away, Nora, but I'm not going to stop feeling this way. And Lizzie's feelings aren't going to change either, even if you get Casey to manipulate her for you. We all know this is just a stop-gap measure until you figure out what you're going to do. And it's freaking pointless. But whatever, you know, I'll go pack, since you want me out and away from your daughter so badly," Edwin sniped before storming upstairs. Almost immediately afterward, Lizzie bolted like a frigging dear and went up after him. No one thought to stop her because it looked like at least one of the four people (excepting me, of course) remaining in the room was going to have a nervous breakdown.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at this show of idiocy. I mean, theoretically, my brother and Lizzie could be having goodbye sex up there. Fortunately, my brother and Lizzie aren't like that. We can't all be like I was at the tender age of thirteen, now can we?

For a long, interminable moment, we just sat there in silence. I'm not sure any of them quite believed what had just happened, much less that it had actually occurred. This moment was wonderfully and effectively broken by my girlfriend, who chose that very moment to flounce down the stairs. "Der-_ek_, are you ever going to come upstairs so we can finish what we started?" Vicky whined. I winced but only slightly at her pronunciation of my name. As soon as I could collect myself somewhat, I turned around to face her. After that depressing conversation, I wasn't really in the mood, but I must keep up appearances.

My dad was even less pleased upon Vicky's arrival. His whole face had soured considerably. The distaste was plainly written all over Casey's face. I waited a moment, smirking and opening my mouth to encourage her. "Given the circumstances, Victoria, I think you ought to go home," My father said stonily. It was not the suggestion it at first seemed. The circumstances being, of course, that his son and stepdaughter had already been found making out that day, and he didn't want to think about his other son having sex with his stepcousin that day.

Vicky made a face, nodding. "Oh, so Ed and Liz hooking up was a bit too much for you to deal with today? Is that it, the step-thing?" Vicky drawled a bit nastily. Sometimes I forget how mean she is. There are moments, you know, when it's not so appealing. Casey glowered at her, and for a minute I thought she was going to forcibly shove her out of the room. What's worse, Casey noticed the way my eyes instinctively darted towards her and looked down, ashamed.

My girlfriend placed a hand on her hip, waiting for someone to say something. She looked at me expectantly, but I didn't feel like saying anything. It was Nora who finally spoke. "Victoria, dear, it's been a long day, and now's really not a good time for any of us. You can some see Derek some other time, okay?" Nora suggested helpfully, motioning for Vicky to go. Vicky pouted and started to walk towards me. She's never one to follow orders or do what you tell her to do.

Then Casey rose, silently, a rather vicious look in her eyes. She gets that way when it comes to defending our family. "Vicky, get out before I throw you out," She warned. Vicky made a face at Casey, fingers trailing along the edge of the couch. Her fingers stroked my arm, so I kept my eyes on her. Then Vicky leaned over, placing one of her hands on my face, and crashed her lips into mine, marking me as her possession. I didn't especially like it, but I kissed her back for show. Then Vicky pulled away slowly, smirking. She patted my cheek with what I suppose you could call affection, and then Casey marched over to us, grabbing Vicky's arm with a wholly unexpected force and dragging her out of the room.

She literally threw her out of our house, murmuring something about sluts, I think. On the one hand, I was kind of impressed, but on the other... Vicky's still my girlfriend, and I do like her and appreciate things about her. And not just the fact that she puts out, you know. I like that she's an unapologetic bitch about half of the time. I like that she's not like other girls, that she doesn't get all whiny or emotional about things. I even like how she'll do just about anything to spite Casey. And I know that Vicky's a human being and that all of that's just a front for her insecurities, a protective covering for who she really is.

You see, Vicky and I are a lot alike, and I can appreciate that for what it's worth. It's so much easier to be with someone like me, someone who thinks like me. After Vicky left, I decided to go back upstairs and maybe get some sleep, fed up with the pointless silence in the living room. It was as if someone had died, when all that had really happened was the apparent revelation that Edwin and Lizzie were dating. Newsflash, if my parents paid any attention to them AT ALL, it wouldn't exactly be a revelation.

I suppose I should feel guilty for that, but I really can't. Anyway, as I was heading to my sanctuary of peace, I was stopped in the hallway by my little brother. He put his hand on my arm, and I turned to him wearily. Admittedly, I was kinda proud because he'd managed in one day and with one kiss to put this family in more turmoil than I had ever achieved in my whole existence. Then again, if they knew what had happened with me and Casey: sex, lies, and total annihilation, that title might currently be mine.

Edwin looked up at me, a grim smile on his lips and a full sports bag in his hand. He wore his resignation remarkably well. I would've refused to go, if I was in his situation, but I'm not Edwin, after all. "Thanks, bro. It was great, what you did for us," He said sincerely, going in for a hug. I pulled back before he could hug me, giving him a look.

"What I did for you?" I asked, feigning confusion. "I did nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." Edwin gave me a look that suggested he didn't buy it. Whatever. His stupidity. He stepped towards me again, and I stepped back. "Edwin, you know my no-hug policy. I mean, jeez, kid, you're just going to be gone a couple days. It's not like I'll never see you again, dork," I retorted, pushing him away a little bit.

He gave me another one of those looks before practically running at me in a hug I was unprepared to accept. "Like I said, Derek, that's your policy, not mine..." He pulled away a little to look at me, sighing a little. "Besides, you don't know that, Derek. For all I know, they'll send me to Uncle Robbie's or ship me off to military school!" Edwin protested, looking worried. I guess this is kind of my problem now since I'm the cause of it all... but I can't let them ship my brother away.

For the record, I don't think that's what they're going to do, but dealing with this sort of thing is kind of unprecedented. I sighed, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, and clapped my hand down on his shoulder. "Look, Edwin, that's not going to happen, okay? If they send anyone to military school, it'd be me. And, besides, if they even think about it, I'll find a way to get you out of it, okay?" I promised, looking him straight in the eyes. And I knew exactly what I'd say to take the heat off of him, but it'd have to be a last resort. I couldn't stand to see how grateful Edwin was, so I swallowed and looked away. "Anyways, Ed, I've never been more proud of you. Both for standing up for you and your girlfriend, and, more importantly, being a smartass," I continued, squeezing his shoulder.

Then I pulled away from him, face impassive once more. Blink-and-you-miss-it compassion, that's what I call it. I smirked, naturally, and told him, "See ya and wouldn't wanna be ya, Ed. Have fun at Teddy's!" Edwin scowled and waved weakly, heading down the stairs. I assumed he'd already said goodbye to his girlfriend in private and headed into my room, flopping down face first onto my bed, which still smelled like Vicky (sex, heavy perfume, and candy). She'd accidentally (on purpose, perhaps?) left behind some of her clothes lately. I shut my eyes, intending to forget this whole awful night which had left a sour taste in my mouth.

And, just when I thought my night couldn't be any more ruined by my stupid family, Casey freaking McDonald comes into my room. Once again without knocking. I'm starting to see why it bugs her so much, although the difference between the two of us is that I just wouldn't open the door, period, knowing it was Casey. I made a noise into the pillow, half wanting to scream. The sad thing is that I didn't even have to _look_ to know it was Casey. I could feel it in the way my muscles tensed, in the way the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up as a result of this wave of awareness. Well, I mean, she did open her mouth, but who else was gonna open my door without knocking? She's the only person that stupid in the house, the only one who thinks she has that right.

Instead, I managed somewhat sedately, "What do you want, McDonald?" I didn't bother to turn and look at her, period. I wasn't really listening to her like I could've because I was trying to sleep.

The odd thing was that she didn't start talking like I expected her to. There was a certain hesitance in the air. When Casey finally spoke, it was in a small voice, and it wasn't about either of our siblings, like I expected. "Derek, I need to talk to you," She said in a voice that was weak, not even remotely demanding. I found it odd that she had to ask permission because it had never stopped her in the past. She talked to me whenever she wanted to talk to me, regardless of whether or not I wanted to talk to her.

I shrugged minutely. "So talk, Crazy. Nothing's stopping you," I mumbled, making a vague hand gesture. Still Casey remained mute, and I found it utterly bizarre because she was never silent. Nothing had ever stopped her from talking before, yet here she was, short of words. I just wanted her to get out of the damn room so I could sleep. "Dammit, Casey, just spit it out already. There's a limited amount of time before I fall asleep here, regardless of whether you're talking or not," I told her irritably.

This statement was enough to jolt her into speech. Finally. She took a deep, audible breath, and I rolled my eyes. "Listen, Derek... What happened earlier with Lizzie and Edwin, well, it got me thinking about things," She began awkwardly. I knew she was coming closer to me because her voice progressively got louder, as halting as it was. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Great, just what I need, Casey "thinking." Wonder what Caseyotic thing she's going to come up with. Casey trailed off, sighing. Bet you anything she's wringing her hands right now, freaking out.

"Derek, do you mind? This is kinda hard to say to your ass," Casey requested a bit timidly. Okay, I can't help it, that made me laugh. I turned a little, leaning on my elbow, so she could at least see my face, since that was apparently so important to her. Yet, at the sight of my face, Casey faltered even more, biting her lip and just looking plain shy.

I motioned for her to talk. "So **say** it already, Space Cadet. What are you waiting for? It's not like I know where your head's at," I urged, watching her expectantly. I'm hardly going to bite your head off here unless you persist in wasting my time. She became even more nervous under my scrutiny, but I didn't really enjoy it. As far as I was concerned, she was just continuing to piss me off and meddling in my life. I so have better things to do.

Casey was tugging on her hair. "Derek, I... This isn't easy for me." That time I rolled my eyes because that was pretty damn obvious. Honestly, what could she even have to say to me? She hadn't given me a lot of hints. I continued staring at her unrelentingly, hoping that'd spark her into saying something. I wasn't about to let her get away with anything. "I just... I realized that I was jealous of Lizzie because she was able to do something I couldn't do," She elaborated promisingly. Now that made me look up in curiosity.

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean bagging Edwin?" I drawled, rather amused with the idea. Casey scowled at me, and I was relieved because that was an expression I was at least familiar with, none of this wish-washy nonsense. "I'm sure he's quite the catch, Case, but I think he's a little young for you..." Casey sighed, vexed.

"No, stupid," She said reflexively. Honestly, I was pretty damn relieved. Insults, now that's a familiar territory. Then Casey paused a really long time, and I got this unpleasant feeling in my stomach, like I knew she'd say something I wouldn't want to hear. Just thinking about it made me want to throw up, but, really, what else could she possibly say to me? She couldn't hurt me any more than she already had. What could she take away from me that really mattered? I couldn't think of a damn thing unless she was going to tell me Vicky was cheating on me, and, frankly, even if she said that and it was true, it wouldn't exactly break me up. Besides, I didn't think that was what she was going to say.

She sucked in a breath and then started babbling. "She expressed her feelings and told Edwin how she felt about him," Casey continued. I gave her a wary look, hoping against hope that she's not going exactly where I think she's going with this. She better not. She gave me a look, like I should have some idea of what she's talking about. "And it takes a lot of guts to do that, Derek." She was looking at me funny, softly almost, and it was starting to make me uneasy. She smiled faintly, and I thought I saw her wipe her eye. "I never gave you credit for that," She admitted, looking a bit regretful.

That made my hackles rise because, bammo, direct reference to that awkward time we didn't reference. For that express reason that I like to forget that I was ever in love with her. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. Somehow Casey took courage in that. "And I sure didn't make it easy for you." That's a massive understatement. She looked like she was about to apologize, and, well, I had to get the hell away from that. I tried to back away, to pretend I was unconscious, but Casey's a bitch with a bone sometimes. She grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to her, and I was amazed that she could manage to look me in the eye, unblinking. She hadn't done that for a long time.

Then she took a shallow, anxious breath. I could see the emotions play out on her face, see the flicker of weakness, the momentary lack of resolve. And I knew, I just knew that I was freaking screwed because somehow whatever she was going to say next was going to drag me back down into the thick of it. She didn't bite her lip this time or rush her words or anything, though. In a completely undramatic, un-Casey fashion, she spoke calmly and said, "I love you, Derek."

Naturally, I gaped at her in incredulity for thirty terribly awkward, unbelievable seconds. And then I laughed loudly, hysterically because, well, how else does one respond to something like that? The moment was so surreal and out of the blue that that was all I could do. After a good five solid minutes of that, I forced my body into a seated position and wiped the tears from my eyes. "Good one, Case. You really had me going there for a while," I told her jestingly, but as I wiped my eyes, the look on her face told me a different, more alarming story. She looked... hurt? And I couldn't believe that now, apparently, I had the power to get at her.

She gave me a stony look, crossing her arms over her chest, and I rolled my eyes. "You know, you're not going to get me to say it back by looking at me like that, sis. This isn't a feel-good family moment, thanks," I replied dryly, motioning for her to get out of my room. Besides, what was the point in that? I already knew she loved me like a brother, and it basically makes me gag.

But Casey huffed and puffed and looked quite put-out, as usual. I took it as a small victory, but Casey decided, unfortunately, to ruin it by talking. "No, Derek, that's not what I meant at all! You're more than my brother, okay? I don't just _love_ you... I'm _in_ love with you!" She cried emotionally, showing the passion I'd hoped she'd forgotten. And there it was, that stone settling in my intestines. Love, and apparently she meant it in the romantic sense, and a part of me had seen this coming, hadn't I? And... how the hell could I possibly believe her? She wasn't quite distressed enough; she was, rather, like a petulant child frustrated with me for not getting it.

I couldn't accept that readily, and, honestly, even if I could cope with what she said (which obviously I can't because I've just gotten off of that damn deadly C-train after one trainwreck too many!), I just could not believe it, period. So I snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about, Casey. You don't _love_ me. You never did, even when we _had_ a relationship, so why would you start now?" I stated, not even expressing an ounce of the anger I was currently feeling. She didn't deserve that, and I was (un?)consciously mirroring her previous behavior. I paused deliberately there but didn't remain silent long enough to give her a chance to speak. "Why do you have to try and go back to that now? Can't you see that I'm done with you for good?" I asked a bit more harshly. What nerve it took for her to just presume.

Casey's eyes slanted a little, making her look distraught. She flinched, reaching for me hopelessly, but I jerked my arm away from hers. The rage I was feeling was a secret, silent type of anger, a simmering bitterness at heart. I didn't want her to effing touch me. I faltered for words there for a moment, and that was my mistake because it gave her an opening. "Damn it, Derek, I **mean** it! I know what I'm feeling!" She shouted. Normally I would've been concerned that the others could hear, but Lizzie was across the hall, doubtlessly crying over my brother, and Marti was unconscious. And I simply didn't care. I tuned Casey out because, well, just because she was talking didn't mean I had to listen.

And I took a perverse joy in that, in knowing I'd repaid her for her doubt. Casey didn't really convince me, no matter what she said. I still remembered that torturous period we'd been together, and she'd been torn, hadn't she? Her body temporarily mine, and her heart forever Sam's. I didn't feel sympathy for her. Then Casey slapped me on the cheek too lightly, trying to make me listen. "I've been fighting it for the longest time... I tried and I tried, but I can't. You were right, Derek. I can't forget. I can't pretend that I... don't feel this way anymore. I can't remain silent," She babbled nonsensically.

She still hadn't convinced me. Her argument was as weak as she was. "Really, Casey, telling me you love me while you're still with Sam? Real classy," I rejoined mockingly. I couldn't even look at her, so disgusted was I with her pitiful attempts at... whatever the hell this was. All I knew was that she wanted something, something from me. She was trying to fix it by telling me what she thought I wanted to hear, only I didn't. Not anymore. It's not the same, and I can't go back. And she's only making it worse. I am not being pulled back into her damn undertow! Not this time!

I paused for a brief moment, glancing at her to see her face flushed, her mouth open and ready to argue. This was normally the time when I found her most attractive, most irresistible, but this time, there was nothing. Only the wrath which had solidified into a hard ball in the pit of my stomach. I latched on to that last idea, _Sam_, that name that still stuck in my throat and left a bitter taste in my mouth, spitting out the words faster than I knew what to do with, "And what _about_ Sam, huh, Casey? 'Cause last I checked, you were in love with **him**. And, if you really fell in love with me when I treated you like an asshole, then you're even more twisted than I thought. And it's saying a lot when _I_ think you're twisted."

Casey shrunk a little, as if shamed by my words. She wore the guilt on her face, caked thick and heavy, layer after layer. She reeked of it, practically weeping little droplets of guilt and shame in my presence. She cringed too, as if she'd forgotten Sam or preferred to do so, at any rate. She flinched at the harshness of my words, which, I realized, were no longer cool and calm but instead sounding sharper, angrier, bitterer by the moment. I thought I was so... over this... betrayal, loss, ache, whatever you want to call it. I thought that rage had just melted away layer by layer, but of course it can't be simple like that. There'll always be this hatred for her in my veins, regardless of those other feelings, and how can I ever truly be indifferent?

A part of all that hatred, I knew, was directed at myself. I'm... not particularly proud of the way I acted either. I did a lot of things I've never done before or since. A lot of things I didn't know I was capable of. I treated her like... I don't even know what, but low, real low. Worse than she deserved, but that sick part of me that still kind of hates her for everything doesn't regret it. Revenge is a fleeting pleasure, after all, but a pleasure nonetheless in a very miserable part of my life. I thought I'd forgiven, that maybe time had dimmed my memories, but that's clearly not the case.

I didn't speak again, lost in my thoughts, but she did. Her voice trembled, and suddenly she looked more vulnerable than she had when she'd said those accursed words. I didn't look at her eyes because I knew what I would see there, and damn it, I didn't like it. "I... was in love with Sam, but we both changed. He's not the person I fell in love with, and I'm not who he loves, not really, not anymore. _You_ changed me," She explained, soft and short of breath. For some bizarre reason, those three words affect me more than a declaration of love, they make me freeze; they make my fast tongue slow and thick in my mouth, and I can only take in these little pants of air. Because even though I made her say it, she'd never admitted that it was me, that I'd really changed her, that I'd affected her at all, that it wasn't just the relationship or the sex, but that it was really _me_.

The fight had gone out of me a little bit, but just a little, the barest beginning wisps. "What the **hell**, Casey? You can hardly handle the fact that we even had a sexual relationship! And I'm supposed to believe this crock about me changing things for you? You didn't love me then, and you don't love me now. You're only telling me this because you want to turn to somebody for... God knows why or what. Because, I don't know, maybe you've finally realized that the person you were in love with _wasn't_ really Sam Richards at all!" I countered irritably but not with quite the fervor I had before. I didn't spit out words like bullets. They were harsh but not vicious or cutting enough.

Casey shook her head stubbornly. Maybe she thought I was my old self, implying that she loved me. Maybe I'd hit too close to home that time. Either way, she looked affronted, and, for someone who'd just been denied in most every sense of the word, in the cruelest way, perhaps (as I hadn't even acknowledged her claims as something serious enough to merit a position one way or the other), she held herself high with pride. Maybe she knew that my anger was waning... "Of **course** that's why I'm here, Derek! I realized that the person I was really in love with was _you,_ you colossal dumbass! And don't you dare say I'm lying because I-" Casey shrieked back, fast as lightning. Her voice was growing hysterical.

I cut her off with a scoff, "If that's true, then sucks for you!" I said it childishly in a sing-song voice because I knew it'd piss her off all the more. I'd been in her shoes, and she'd been in mine. Unlike her, I wasn't trying to spare anyone's feelings. An eye for an eye, and the whole world might be blind, but I honestly don't believe her. It was a kind of twisted warning, though, because I didn't... I don't, not anymore.

She surprised me by grabbing me by the forearms and damn near throwing me up against my headboard, leaning over me dangerously. "There is no "if," Derek. I. **Am**. In. Love. With. You. Whether you like it or not. You can't do a damn thing about it because I still remember how much of a bastard you were and are sometimes, and yet, here I am! And it's not gonna go away, despite my best efforts. I'm sure _you_ remember how that feels," She insisted, moving closer to my face as I cringed. I didn't like her being in control. In fact, I _hated_ it, hated the way she was trying to pin me there. I felt like a damn caged animal, and I didn't like it because I'd gone out of my way time after time to make her feel this effing trapped, to make her see my way.

And while I'm all about turning the tables tonight, I don't like it when the damn things are used against me. Casey grinned almost wickedly and slithered her thighs around the outsides of mine, properly straddling me, seating herself uncomfortably in my lap, moving just slightly enough to rub against me temptingly. I opened my mouth to speak, but Casey firmly planted her finger on my lips, shifting her weight forward, more directly over me. I groaned, and that damn, dark, pleased smile of hers flashed on those pretty pink lips. There was a cruelty, even, in her love. "Love."

"I'm not a damn liar, Derek. Because I _burn_ with jealousy when you make out with my whore of a cousin. Seeing you together physically turns my stomach... I thought I was clumsy before, but when I'm even thinking about you... I trip; I fall; I drop things; I sweat; I injure myself; I run into people; I make a fool of myself. When I see you, I get choked up or can't say what I mean, there's... a moment of panic where I don't know what the hell to do. My heart beats double-time, and I can't breathe. I feel completely idiotic all the time. I obsess over you more now than I did before. I can't get you off my mind, not even when I'm sleeping, especially not when I'm _dreaming_, no matter how hard I try, and it frustrates the hell out of me. I want to rip out my hair. I want to kill you," Casey ranted, face getting progressively more flushed and animated by the minute. She gesticulated wildly, the emotions plain on her face, and the intensity of it scared me.

Then she swallowed hard, and I didn't really have any time to properly register what she said. Not that I really needed to because, in my own less-neurotic way, I knew exactly what she was talking about. I'd been there too. The obsessing, the feeling like a moron, the non-stop thoughts of her. She paused, letting out a deep breath and looking down. "And I... I-I wish it was me with you instead," She whispered nervously. If I'd been able to deny it at that point, that would've killed my denial. I blinked, dumbfounded. Had she just said she wanted to be with me?

She'd never said that. Even when she _was_ with me! Even when she said she wanted to be my girlfriend, she'd never out and out said that she wanted to be with me. And there it was... Casey loved me. I mean, what the hell? It was practically beyond comprehension, yet it had to be. I looked away from her, not wanting to give her false hope of any kind. "You're too late, Casey," I mumbled wearily, shifting further away from her, leaning comfortably against my pillows. I didn't have the right words to explain how I felt then, how I'd given up, how I never wanted to feel that way again, how I couldn't go back. My statement lacked the necessary finality. Casey swallowed hard again, almost like she was fighting tears, and then she pulled a complete 180.

Casey lunged for me, straddling me, pulling me towards her, determined to prove herself. She'd already proven it to me. She crashed her lips against mine eagerly, opening her mouth against mine, trailing her lips down my jaw and back up again in a blur of dull fire. It was all I could do to not push her off of me, as attracted to her as I was. "You don't feel this way with her. You don't feel this way with anyone but _me_," She murmured breathily, twining her arms around me. Her voice was low, needy and possessive. It didn't repulse me as entirely as it should have. It registered dimly within me that she was right, that I knew what she meant, but I didn't want to feel that way anymore. And maybe I would feel that way with someone else, or maybe I'd just never feel that way again. "A part of you belongs to me, Derek," She continued in the same husky tone, fingers skittering over my chest to stop at my heart.

Her eyes were dark, and her tongue loose. It looked like she wanted to say more, but I didn't let her because once she said that, and it felt like a spell, like a bad omen, I had to break the damn curse. Like in one of those stupid fairytale love story movie things she likes and lives for and so forth. Pansy-ass stuff like that. Because, damn it, I didn't want a single part of me to belong to her. Not anymore. And I wanted to take back what I'd so freely and stupidly given her ungrateful, cruel ass. And I couldn't admit, even to myself, that maybe she was right, that maybe she'd always have a little piece of me, like a broken, jagged shard of glass, no matter how much I wanted to take the whole damn thing back. Because I freaking **hate **this goddamn interminable feeling, this not-being-complete crap.

I wanted to break her right down the middle, just like she'd broken me. I shifted my shoulders and pulled away from her, allowing my face to show the disgust I'd masked, amplified. It wasn't all fake; there was something about Casey in that precise, vulnerable moment that was pathetic to me. This cruel impulse seized me, and I ran with it because cruel is my default setting. "And you think throwing yourself at me, assuming what once was true, will help you get what you want?" I drawled in a voice that was far calmer than I felt on the inside, cool like water. My stare was level and firm; you're not getting me.

I pried her hands away from me, eying them with an exaggerated repugnance, and then I tried to be as calm and... nice as I could possibly be, I suppose, while still saying what I needed to say. I didn't want to waste the words on it because I felt like the more I spoke, the more of a production it was. The more meaning I gave it, and I didn't want to speak its name, to dare infuse it with that kind of dignity that a proper mention affords. What can I say, I get almost poetical in moments such as these, moments of great personal... turmoil. My whole inner being was screaming and clawing and fighting its way out. I felt sick. "Look, I'm sorry you've set your eyes on me now, but I'm done with you," I stated placidly but not without a tinge of acid.

My voice somehow managed to emphasize the apparent transience of her affections. And there it was, as simple a statement as possible. I don't want this. Casey's face fell as it hadn't before because, God help her, she must've found my anger a positive reaction, if only because it was familiar. She opened her mouth to speak, as if to argue with me, but I just shook my head. "But I _love _you, Derek. Doesn't that count for anything? You... no other guy gets to me like you do. You're under my skin _forever_, like some god-awful tattoo I can't get rid of!" Casey pleaded, shouted, shrieked, sounding insane and desperate as ever.

My upper lip curled. Insulting me to gain my affection? That's a new one, though I guess I have to admire her for it, given that it's something I would do. Then I let out a little bark of laughter involuntarily. I remained impassive. "And that _pathetic_ display is supposed to move me? The only girl who was ever worthy of my affection, and you degrade yourself to this plea? I thought you were better than this, Casey," I rejoined coldly, and afterwards, I was hardly able to believe I'd said it. My voice was like cold soup going down your throat, only colder and more unpleasant, bringing a chill down with it. I sounded completely heartless, and that disgusted me too, but in a way I sort of relished it.

Casey gaped audibly, staring at me in sheer disbelief. She looked at me almost like she didn't even know me, and I thought: good, then she can fall out of love with me too, and save us all a lot of misery. "I _loved_ you, Casey. Past tense... I loved you _once_." I was proud of myself for distancing it from the violent, volatile emotions I'd felt. How my voice sounded perfectly blank, monotone, everyday, like none of it was special. Casey blinked, even more incredulously, realizing what I'd said. Her eyes filled with tears, and she was unsteady on the bed, arm wavering almost as if collapsing under the weight of her arm. I did my best to look away from her.

She didn't understand me quite right. I felt dead on the inside, numb and careless (as in I couldn't care less), full of venom and disgust and bitterness. I'm done. I'm over this. I don't want to feel anything like this again. I just want this whole thing to be over. All I want is peace. She needs to... leave me alone. Still, there was incomprehension in her features, and I wanted to be perfectly clear, ruthlessly so, brutally so. If that was what I had to do, then so be it. I tried to tell myself that that wasn't triumph bubbling up in my veins like boiling water, the sweet taste of victory flooding my mouth, this slow trickle of satisfaction... but it was all earned too late, at too high a cost to myself. My very own bitter little Pyhrric victory. "Since you don't seem to get that, I'll make myself even more clear. I don't love you anymore, and I'm trying to forget I ever did," I snarled, enjoying gnashing my teeth at her and smirking cruelly.

For the sake of sanity, for the sake of myself. For the sake of what's left of my mind. Just listen to me, and you'll see. I am not myself, and I haven't really been for a while, since before this whole damn thing started. Had it been just a few months, less than a whole school year, even? It was hard to believe that so much had happened in such a short period of time. Her face fell hard and fast and sharply like an icicle, and I enjoyed watching her and that stupid moony look on her face crumple. 'Cause I'm a sadistic bastard like that, and I don't remember being like this B.C., so it must be new. The tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn't wipe them away. I flinched at the sight of them and tried to turn away, but Casey stubbornly kept me looking at her, kept looking at me too.

Even that blatant rejection wasn't quite enough, apparently. "It's a bitch, isn't it, Casey, loving someone who doesn't love you back?" I was rubbing her face in it, to add insult to injury, anything to get her out of the damn room! I'd given her all I had, and now, what was left? I'm so empty... I feel like I should be more satisfied, but it's a kind of hollow victory, as much as I relish being able to say these things and spit them in her face like this, like nothing, to throw her feelings in her face like this. Because I've had it done to me before, and it's like a slap in the face.

Casey sighed raggedly as she regarded me thinly. "I **know** I was a total bitch to you, okay? And I'm not proud of that... but you aren't just saying this to get revenge, are you?" She bit out, eying me suspiciously. The lack of a proper apology bothered me more than I liked to think. I acutely felt its absence. I mean, sure, she'd said stuff like that in the past, but had she ever outright apologized to me? Specifically? I strained to remember that awkward conversation in the bathroom where I'd left so much unsaid, the closest to closure I'd ever really been. She'd admitted that she used me and led me on, said that it was her fault and that she'd had "no right", even intimated that she felt bad about it. But she'd never apologized, not for that, not for the break-up, and not for what happened afterward. Wait, she had apologized, during that one horrible fight, but she'd never meant it. She inhaled a shaky breath. "I need to know that you really mean this, that you're not just saying it to spite me," Casey persisted. I didn't have to think about it much, though.

I shook my head without pause. "Don't flatter yourself, McDonald. I gave up doing things to spite you weeks ago," I said automatically, even though she was a little right on some level. But it wasn't about that, most of it. Most of it was just the fact that it was true. "I mean it, Casey. I'm sick and tired of this back-and-forth with you. I just don't love you," I told her in a softer voice, knowing I meant it but still not entirely sure. There was something... and I feared that there would always be something more there, between us.

Casey sniffled weakly. "Except my cousin, you mean," She interjected. I shook my head no, but she didn't understand, and why would she? How could she? I pitied her then, so much that it hurt me a little, but it wasn't a sharp, keening pain, just a dull, blunt flicker or two. Then Casey straightened her shoulders, squaring her jaw and wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry I bothered you, Derek. I promise it won't happen again. I won't be that foolish ever again. I'll... leave you be now, like you asked," She said in a voice that was simultaneously defeated and prideful. Then she pulled herself off my bed slowly, like a goddess in retreat.

"What did you think, Casey? That you could say those three pointless little words, and all would be forgiven, and then we'd get back... together? Did you expect me to fall at your feet and declare my love for you again? What, did you think I'd sleep with you again or something, out of pity or gratefulness... or something else? Did you imagine me calling you Prin-cess and welcoming you with open arms back to the fold to resume your former position? Did you see me saying, "Thank you, Casey, for saving me from the **horrors** of a life without love?" Talk is _cheap_, Case, and love is just another dirty four-letter-word, okay? Like that was _ever _going to happen," I roared mockingly, finally dislodging some things that I'd been dying to say the minute she stepped into this room and started talking crap.

Please. I'm starting to almost think I would've been better off without her. I stumbled on the word "together", not even wanting to contemplate the idea of it. Casey flinched, and her bottom lip trembled, but otherwise, she was mostly unresponsive. "I'm **over** you, okay? So just find some other sap to bestow your affections and obsessions on, like Noel Covington, Tinker, or, heaven forbid, one of your many ex-boyfriends, all of whom are _desperate_ to get back with you. Your love is _**wasted**_ here," I snapped, motioning for her to get out. I meant it, too, because loving me right now is like loving a vacuum or something. I don't want it, and I don't want her.

Casey walked out the door stiffly after that, still managing to hold her head high, which meant that I hadn't quite done my job properly. I should've broken her spirit just a little more. She didn't want to cry in front of me again, but as soon as she went in her room, I heard her sobbing through the vents. It made me even more sick to my stomach, and I hurried to get up to close them so I wouldn't have to hear that, but it was worse somehow because I knew, and I hated that. My churning stomach kept me awake until I could take it no longer and practically ran into the bathroom.

I barely made it to the toilet in time to spew. My throat and stomach contracted unpleasantly in painful, choreographed moments. The acid seared its way up my esophagus, burned in my throat, teeth, tongue, and the horrid vomit aftertaste stayed stuck there, coated to the back of my throat. Vomit came out of me, hot and bitter, tangy and sick-tasting, chunks of it in heave after heave, bit by bit, strangely colored and half-digested. I threw up in hoarse cough after cough, burning fire of indigestion, splat, splat, splat, splattering against the pristine porcelain of the toilet. My face screwed up seeing the gross color, hating the unwillingness of it, the lack of control, the way it looked like I'd ruined the toilet, but the toilet could just flush it away, and I had to deal with the gnawing, empty, burning hungry feeling, the uncertain remnants of nausea, and the shame clinging to my sweaty skin and the back of my throat. It reminded me somehow of the whole Casey fiasco, and that brought on a whole new wave of nausea. It felt almost like I couldn't stop vomiting, so disgusted was I with myself and that entire night. The whole day had left this imprint on me of something foul and unclean and invisible to others that clung to my skin and repulsed me. I hadn't thrown up like that in weeks.

I threw up until nothing would come out, and then, still, there was that feeling, the horrid void feeling of dry-heaves. Afterwards, I felt like I couldn't stand, weak, reeking of vomit, but I grabbed the counter and pushed myself up, cleaning off the toilet and flushing it. Then I turned my attention to myself, gargling water, rinsing my mouth out, and then scrubbing with the toothbrush, to be rid of the stale, acidic, nastertaste. I brushed up and down, side-to-side, in concentric circles, picking at certain areas, and I brushed my teeth until they bled. But I didn't care about the pain; I welcomed the irony taste in my mouth.

And then I went back to my room, hating myself more than a little because a part of me wished... yes, no, not thinking of that, not dwelling on that, she got what she deserved... I don't...

And, maybe, maybe, I was kind of lying when I said I was over Casey. Maybe I'm not all the way there yet, but that's the direction I'm heading in... but it's hard, you know? And I don't really expect anyone to understand, least of all her, but that's how I feel, what I need to say to... get her to go away and stop bothering me.

She only wants what she can't have. She's a fickle girl. She wants me now, but she'll change her mind in a matter of weeks, and I'm not sticking around for that trainwreck. Besides, why even bother contemplating an unpredictable variable like her when I've got a sure thing? Not that I even thought about it because God knows I've wasted too much time on...

I fell into an uneasy sleep and dreams that were plagued with something I couldn't quite grasp.

Loren ;*

Anyways, tell me what you think of it. Did Casey get her comeuppance? Or more or less than that? I'm anxious to hear from you. And, really, I am sorry about making the main characters suffer so much. They just lend themselves to it... Anyways, if you're looking for something a bit lighter (but still rather twisted)... check out Strange Attractors and tell me what you think if you haven't done so already, or, really, if you wish to tell me to stop wasting my time writing that story more than this one. And yes, I know it is shameless to plug your own fic, but that's what this fic's for, at any rate. Among other things. But still, I promise it's fun and certainly... different. Give it a chance, and you won't regret it! I appreciate reviews of all kinds. ;) Thanks!


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